


Red in the Silver Lining

by MissMoMo1990



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 07:02:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3437966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMoMo1990/pseuds/MissMoMo1990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leonardo is no longer in charge. Raphael is. The former Fearless leader must cope with his demotion while the hot head struggles to keep his temper in check with all his new responsibilities. It's a change that could turn brother against brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Change is inevitable. It is also powerful for change can create opportunities, destroy routines, inspire hope, and instill fear. Avoid it or embrace it. Reject it or accept it. Regardless of the choice, change will happen. It is a phenomenon that can affect everyone. Even mutant ninja turtles and a mutant rat ninja master.

Over the years, change had matured four teenagers into adults and aged their father in a well-respected elder. Physically they were different, yet their personalities and behaviors had remained pretty much the same because change also selective. Master Splinter, for example, still watched his soap operas, meditated, and drank copious amounts of tea. Yet the wisdom that he had obtained in his lifetime seemed to shine in the silver of his fur and his stooped body leaned a little more heavily on his walking stick. Even though his vision was starting to fail, he looked with pride on each of his sons.

Unsurprisingly, Raphael had become the largest of the four. The angst displayed by the third child was not a phase he had outgrown. Raph's rage at twenty-two was still as common as it had been at sixteen and the only way he had ever learned to deal with it was through vigorous workout. Thus, the countless weight lifting sessions and rounds with the punching bag had packed large, solid muscle onto his six foot two frame. More often than not, the red-banded turtle's anger was a result of an interaction with the eldest.

Daily exercise had shaped an impressive physique for Leonardo as well. However, despite his constant strive for perfection, the chosen leader could not surpass his brother in size. So, shorter by just two inches, the katana-wielder had to rely on his speed and flawless techniques to win a match against the sai-wielder. Their frequent brawls could set watches and the rest of the family had learned to ignore them for the most part. When not fighting or practicing katas, Leo would most likely be found in his room meditating in an attempt to escape the chaos of the lair, the peace of which was usually disrupted by a certain orange-banded turtle.

Michelangelo, it seemed, was not capable of letting go of childhood completely. He had, to his father's relief, learned when to act seriously, but the jokester still read comic books, watched cartoons, pulled pranks, and played video games until all hours of the night. No really seemed to mind (except when they were the victim of one of his infamous pranks) as his bubbly personality was what kept them all from sinking to despair at times. He had definitely earned the title "baby of the family" as he was the shortest at five foot eight. Training sessions kept him relatively fit, but Mikey's love for pizza and junk food stopped him from turning what he insisted was harmless baby fat into more defined muscularity. Whenever Leo started dropping hints about weight loss, the youngest would usually scuttle off to the laboratory under the pretense of assisting his second oldest brother.

Donatello had tried banning Mikey from his lab. A minor explosion caused by the meddling curiosity of the jokester was supposed to have been his last straw. But then Mikey had looked at him with those big puppy dog eyes and the resident genius couldn't stay mad at him. Besides, he liked the company and he really did need the help sometimes. At five foot ten, Donnie was lean yet strong enough to hold his own in battle. Like Mikey, he typically did the minimal amount of training that Splinter required, but his devotion lay in scientific research and engineering mechanics. The bo-wielder's persistent tinkering had done great things for him and his family so they left him to his work, interrupting only when they knew he had gone far too long without either food or sleep.

Yes, the members of the Hamato clan had all changed in some way, but far more was left unchanged. Team practice was held daily while group meditation was a weekly ritual. They continued associating with their human allies Casey and April. Baxter Stockman was still a nuisance, Karai remained a threat, the Purple Dragons never disbanded. When nighttime fell, the four ninjas would surface to protect their city. For them, it was just a routine.

On one of these ordinary patrols, change decided it had been inactive long enough.

Master Splinter gave no second thought to his sons leaving that evening. He had simply waved them off as they exited the lair, wishing them safety just like he always did. It was only two hours later while arranged in a meditative position that he began to feel uneasy. Whispered of danger, pain, and panic began to threaten his peace of mind. With each passing minute, they grew in intensity and just as the old rat rose to go find his sons, the door to their home burst open suddenly. Feeling his heart drop through the floor, Splinter couldn't help the sob that escaped his lips as he stared at the sight before him. Carried carefully and gently between his brothers was a bloody, broken Leonardo.

Pushing past their father, the three rushed their sibling into the infirmary and laid him on the cot. Donatello moved quickly around the room as he gathered necessary supplies all the while ordering Michelangelo to inform Splinter about what had happened and issuing instructions to Raphael on how to keep the eldest breathing. For an entire night and into the late morning the genius, with help from the hot head, worked to repair his older brother. At that point, Splinter refused to stay out of the room any longer and took up a vigil by his son's bed. Two days later, Leo opened his eyes. Three minutes after that, he announced that he couldn't feel his legs and no matter how hard Don tried, no matter how many prayers whispered or tears shed, there was nothing that could be done.

One week later, Master Splinter gathered his pupils around Leo's cot in the infirmary.

"My sons, these last two weeks have been long and full of many emotions," he said, looking around at all of them as he stood at the foot of the bed. "Anger, sorrow, fear, hate, and disappointment. Yet we must not let ourselves be burdened down by this incident. We must continue forward."

He paused for a moment, staring at his hands which were folded on top of his walking stick. "I have meditated on this for many hours. The decision that I have made is not one I considered lightly. Because of the life that we live, this family requires a leader."

Splinter stopped again, meeting Leo's gaze as he lay propped up into a sitting position by several pillows. The blue-clad terrapin's eyes shone with sadness as realization set in. He nodded at his father, keeping his silence. Apologetically, the mutant rat lowered his head.

"From now on, that leader is Raphael."


	2. Chapter 2

In and out.

That's what he had told them.

In and out.

It should have been an easy job.

In and out.

It had started out as a simple training run.

In…but not out…

So went the thoughts of Leonardo as he lay staring up at the ceiling of the medical bay. A sigh escaped his lips, indicating his frustration. Hours of lying in the same position had created a dull ache in his neck and lower back. Leo tried moving his shoulders to ease the discomfort, but it did little good. What he really wanted was to stand up and stretch, but that was no longer an option. Lifting himself up on his elbows, the blue-clad terrapin looked down at the two lumps beneath the bed sheets that were once perfectly functioning legs.

With a grunt, Leo continued pushing himself until he was sitting upright. He yanked the covers aside to expose his lower extremities. For the thousandth time, he tried to move his feet and for the thousandth time, he was disappointed. Not even a toe twitched. Fingers trembling slightly, he placed each hand at the top of a leg and slid them slowly down his thighs to his knees. That was where the feeling stopped and the ability to move ended.

Leonardo couldn't remember much about that night. Most of the details were fuzzy. What he did remember were the sensations: the sharp stab into his side, the squelching sound of a sword being pulled from flesh, the warm gush of liquid running over his skin, the copper-like smell of fresh blood, the sudden absence of weight in his hands as he dropped his katana, the metallic clang they made as they hit the ground, and then darkness. Within that darkness there had been constant pain broken intermittently by brief scenes – his brothers' faces, the sewer tunnels, the lair, Master Splinter. Leo had tried to fight it, but with each break the pain had intensified to the point that it became unbearable and he finally surrendered to the darkness.

It seemed that he had spent an eternity in that black abyss though Donatello had later told him that he had been unconscious for only three days. With a sudden rushing sensation, like he was surfacing after being underwater, he emerged from the darkness, opening his eyes to a harsh, bright light. As his vision focused on the images of his father and Donatello hovering above him, Leo noticed that the pain had subsided. Yet something else was absent. With a shaky voice, he had told the room at large that he couldn't feel his legs.

Donatello had run all kinds of tests. He had poked, prodded, bent, and stretched Leo's legs, asked questions, and referenced medical textbooks. In the end, the genius concluded that Leo was now paralyzed below the knee and he didn't know if it was temporary or permanent. Leo remembered feeling nothing but disappointment. Donatello, the turtle with all the answers, couldn't fix him.

Sighing again, Leo looked around the room. Three weeks of confinement and he had begun to despise the medical bay. He hated be waited on hand and foot, resented the fact that he was stuck in this bed, unable to do anything as simple as walking to the bathroom unaided. More and more frequently he had wondered if it would have been better to remain in the darkness. His hands moved past the knees down to his calves. The only hope he had was that Donnie had said that the paralysis might be temporary. As he massaged the leg muscles, he began to fantasize about regaining their movement and whether there was anything he could do to make that happen. The more he thought about it, the more determined he became that he would walk again. Out of all his brothers he had always been the one to master a new technique first because he had the most steadfast focus. That's what he needed now. Focus.

Silently, Leo lifted his right leg and swung it over the side of the bed then did the same with his left. He scooted closer to the edge of the mattress, watching as both feet touched the stone flooring. Taking a deep breath, he concentrated all his energy before firmly gripping the bed and pushing himself into a standing position.

For a moment, the eldest teetered precariously on his feet. A feeling of accomplishment was just starting to wash over him when he lost his balance completely. Leo toppled to the floor, taking the bedside table down with him in a thunderous crash. Angry and embarrassed, Leo stayed in his defeated heap face down on the stones.

"Leo!"

The noise had hastened Michelangelo to his side.

"Leo, are you okay?" the orange banded turtle questioned urgently, kneeling on the floor beside him. With strong hands he gently rolled Leo onto his shell. "What happened?"

Cheeks flushing, Leo stared up into the face of his baby brother. "Nothing, I just…just…"

His answer died on his lips and he averted his gaze. Mikey looked around the room, taking in the sight of the battered wooden nightstand and the shattered bits of the lamp that had once stood upon it. The sheets had been pulled of the bed as well.

"You weren't trying to walk again, were you?" he asked with exasperation. "Leo you know supposed to be taking it easy."

"I know!" Leo snapped and immediately regretted his harsh tone. It seemed that the injury had taken away his patience as well. His eyes watered from the painful contact with the floor. Lifting his hands to hide his face, he continued on in a softer voice. "I just needed to go…"

"To the bathroom?" Mikey assumed. "Why didn't you call so we could help you?"

"No!" the eldest protested. He suddenly wanted nothing more than to be alone. "Go! Get out!"

"Leo, what the…?"

"Out!" he repeated, pushing Mikey's hands off his shoulders then hiding his face again.

Michelangelo was startled by his brother's reaction. In their lifetime together, he had never seen Leo so openly upset. It had him instantly suspicious. "What's wrong, bro? Are you in pain?"

No response.

"Donnie! Get in here!" Mikey called over his shoulder.

The purple banded turtle appeared so fast one would have thought he had teleported into the medical bay. Quickly crossing the floor, he knelt down next to Mikey and began to examine Leo and ask a barrage of questions simultaneously.

"What happened? How did you end up on the floor, Leo? Are you hurt? Any pain at all? Did you call for us? Is the call system I rigged up for you not working? What do you need?" he gushed.

Leonardo groaned in frustration. He was not hurt, he was pissed off. He was sick of the questions, sick of being babied, sick of everything.

"No, just go," he pleaded quietly, wiping away the few tears that had managed to leak from his brown eyes.

Donnie and Mikey exchanged worried glances.

"Dude, just let us help get you back in bed," the jokester offered and they pulled him into a sitting position.

"I don't need help! I can do it myself!" Leo shouted, his anger back and at full force. He glared at his two siblings and twisted out of their grip. Breathing heavily, he leaned back against the bed.

"Da hell is going on in here?" a voice demanded from the doorway.

The three turtles looked toward the entrance of the medical bay. Raphael stood there, leaning against the door frame in his typical pose with arms crossed over his burly chest and one eye ridge raised. His golden eyes gleamed as he surveyed the mess inside.

At the sight of his third brother, Leonardo's heart sank entirely. He had lost a lot the night of the attack - his mobility, his dignity, his pride – but all of that paled in significance to his loss of leadership. The red banded turtle was no longer his hotheaded underling. Raph was an usurper who now held all the power. Leo's head hung shamefully as his thoughts resumed their previous mantra.

In with the new leader.

Out with the old.


	3. Chapter 3

While the lights of New York City were supposed to illuminate the night, they were unusually dull on this particular evening. Darkness was fighting harder, determined to overcome every inch of the metropolis. It seemed to be gaining an advantage. The streets were less noisy, quieted by the absence of typical Friday night flocks of loud idiots, drunks, and tourists. From the top of an apartment complex, he twirled a sai in his hand as watched the world below, grateful for the shadows that kept him hidden as he waited.

"Awful quiet tonight, ain't it?" a deep voice spoke up behind him.

"I don't like it," the figure at the edge of the rooftop replied, not the least bit surprised by the sudden sound.

The owner of the voice moved forward, coming to stand by the first. Placing one foot on the low wall, he also leaned forward to peer down at the city below through the eye holes of his hockey mask.

"Shame, really. I was hopin' we'd get to knock a few heads tonight, Raph. Looks like we might not have to."

"The night ain't over yet, Case."

"Well, at least we can have a drink," Casey said, turning his gaze to his friend as he held up a six pack of beer.

Raphael eyed the proffered drink. Taking a bottle, he popped the top off with his sai before returning the weapon to his belt. A sip of the beer proved it to be ice cold, its familiar taste somehow comforting. Casey lifted the mask from his face as he lifted his own bottle to his lips. The two drank silently as they resumed their vigil of the streets.

"How's the kid?" the red banded turtle asked after a few minutes.

"Better. Finally got over his cold," Casey replied. Spinning the bottle between his hands, he chuckled. "Toby's been askin' when 'Nuncle Waff' will come visit."

Raph gave a small smile. Truth be told, he was rather fond of his friend's three year old son. "Yeah, well, don't have much time for socializing during the day anymore."

"How are things in the lair? Leo doing okay?"

"The dumbass was tryin' ta walk again," Raph said with a frown. He paused momentarily to take a pull of his beer. "He don't seem ta realize that pushin' himself like that ain't gonna heal him any faster."

Casey shrugged his shoulders. "Can't say I don't blame him for tryin'. I know I'd be goin' bat shit crazy if I had to stay in bed all day."

"Yeah, me too."

"April's been talkin' bout coming down to see you guys."

"Ya ain't gonna let her, are ya?" Raph demanded, brow furrowing as his frown deepened. "Ain't no reason for her ta keep comin' down to run around the sewers when she's four months pregnant."

The vigilante threw his hands up in exasperation. "That's what I said. She got all mad, called me a controlling pompous prick, and smacked me upside the head with her broom. Then the next second she starts crying and apologizing." He rubbed the spot where she had struck ruefully. "Damn those mood swings of hers. I don't remember them being this bad when she was pregnant with Toby."

"She know what she's havin' yet?"

"A girl," Casey announced with a proud smile on his face.

The terrapin clapped a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Congrats, man. I'm happy for ya."

Silence fell again between the two males. A breeze had picked up, adding a slight chill to the air. Playfully, it tousled the human's long dark locks and tugged on the red tails of the mutant's mask. Throwing his head back, Casey polished off his beer and reached for another.

"So, how you holding up through all this mess?" he asked, popping the top off his replacement bottle.

Raph snorted and shrugged his shoulders. "I get by."

"You guys gone out looking for her yet?"

"Fuck no," the turtle growled, grabbing his second beer. "Splinter ain't lettin' us out ta find that bitch. He says it's too soon, that we ain't 'emotionally stable' enough ta confront her and we need time ta adjust ta our new team structure." He took a sip then glared at the bottle in his hand. When he spoke again, his voice was bitter. "So, basically what he meant was that he don't think I know how ta lead and ta learn I'm gonna have ta sit and listen ta him tell me what a leader would do in every goddamn situation ya could imagine then act it out in the dojo. Course, none of it matters 'cuz I'll never be as good as his precious Leonardo."

"Aww, c'mon, Raph," Casey said pleadingly, looking at his companion. "Splinter don't think that. He's just worried."

"Yeah, whatever."

"Anyways, I don't understand why you're gettin' so worked up. I mean, you've always wanted to be the leader, haven't you? So what if you've got to train a little more. You've been training your whole life."

Raphael ground his teeth together. His hand tightened around the neck of the bottle to the point that his knuckles paled. "Yeah, I wanted to be leader... But I fuckin' wanted it cuz I earned it! Not cuz there was no other option when Fearless let that bitch Karai get the best of him!"

With tremendous force, the hot head threw his beer bottle at the wall next to the door that led to the apartments below them. It shattered instantly, glass flying in every direction. The foaming liquid ran over the bricks, dripping onto the rooftop. Turning away, Raph quickly covered his face with both hands.

"Raph?" the vigilante inquired softly, placing a tentative hand on his friend's shaking shoulders.

"I shoulda had his back, Case," Raph managed to say while he tried to keep tears at bay. "Shoulda seen what she was gonna do. It's my fault Leo got hurt. I should be the one layin' in that bed, not him."

"Don't say that," Casey protested. He gave Raph's shoulder a comforting squeeze. "Weren't nothing you could've done. I know cuz I was there and watched it all go down same as you. Don't think there was nothing anybody could've done. Karai plays dirty. Always has, always will. You can't keep blamin' yourself for what happened. It ain't good for you."

"Maybe your right, but…" the sai wielder began to say.

"Course, I'm right," Casey interrupted, flashing a smile as he lightly punched Raph on his arm.

"Man, this sucks," Raph sighed as he rubbed his eyes.

"Yeah, it does. But you'll get through it. You've got to. For Leo."

Raphael simply nodded. Just as silence was starting to resettle, the sound of breaking glass echoed in the alley below. The two friends leaned over the edge of the building to peer down into the dark passageway.

"Looks like it ain't gonna be quiet tonight after all," Casey commented, his sharp eyes spotting a group of five men. He pulled a baseball bat from the golf bag strung across his back and began spinning it in his hand. Smiling excitedly, he glanced sideways at his buddy. "Purple dragons."

Raph grinned and pulled both sai out. "Let's go say hello."


	4. Chapter 4

The light emitting from the computer screen was brutal to tired eyes. Its glow had the harshness of a thousand suns although it only cast a minimal range of light in the dark room. Shadows grew from the rectangular window of brightness and danced upon the walls. Their movement did nothing to distract Donatello who continued to stare at the information on the monitor with his brown eyes that had become bloodshot from weariness.

Yawning loudly, Donnie tilted back in his chair. His calloused hands lifted from the keyboard and relocated to his face where they were used to rub away the tired feeling that was threatening to overwhelm him. The attempt was pointless. He was always tired even when he did manage to get a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.

With another yawn, he picked up the white coffee mug that rested on his desktop. Peering inside, he saw that all remained were the dregs. Donnie hadn't even realized he had finished it off. Maybe because it didn't help anymore. The caffeine he had relied on for years failed to give him the kick he needed nowadays, but still he drank it out of habit.

Deciding against another refill, the purple banded terrapin set the mug back down and pushed it away. His gaze returned to the computer screen where his search results were displayed. The information he sought was anything on lower limb paralysis – diagnosing it, dealing with it, or curing it. To his great disappointment, Donnie found the exact same stuff he had on his last search and the one before that. All of it he had read before enough times that he had lost count. He sighed in defeat, realizing that he had made no progress in finding a way to fix Leonardo.

Donatello's thoughts drifted to the events of that night nearly a month ago when they had been ambushed by the Foot Clan. The four brothers hadn't even been looking for a fight. In fact, they all believed that they had made their peace with Karai, but without warning they had been surrounded and engaged in a fight. Like each of his brothers, Donatello soon got caught up in the battle and lost all track of time. He had been in the process of disarming one Foot soldier when everything suddenly went silent as all fighting ceased. Looking around, Donnie's stomach dropped upon seeing Karai standing over Leonardo's prone form, a bloodied katana in her hand.

Raphael had been the first to react. Screaming obscenities, the sai-wielder charged towards her. Before he could reach her, she had vanished along with the Foot Elite. As the rest of the Foot retreated, both Mikey and Donnie ran to their fallen leader while Raph vented his rage on those unfortunate Foot soldiers who had been too slow to escape. Blood was fast forming in a puddle around Leo. With little else to work with, Donnie attempted to staunch the flow with his bare hands, shouting orders at the other two as he devised a plan to get his older brother home alive.

Examining his hands, Don could still see the red liquid of life, Leo's life, staining his fingers. He could still imitate the motions his hands had made as they tried to stop all the life from leaving his brother's body. Then his hands had been used to monitor, tend, and comfort Leo. Yes, his hands did a lot, but it seemed that the one thing they could not do was make Leo walk again.

Rubbing at his temples, Donnie berated himself for now adding guilt and self-blame to his stressed mind. Resentfully, he looked at the computer again. The resident genius had no desire to continue his search. It seemed completely pointless now. Just as he was about to shut the machine down, a video chat window popped open on the screen.

"Hey, Donnie," April greeted as her face appeared. Her green eyes sparkled as she smiled at her mutant friend.

"Hey, April," Don replied offering a small smile in return. "You're up awfully late. Is something wrong?"

"Oh no, everything's fine. I was awake so I decided to check my email and saw that you were on. Somebody didn't want mommy to sleep," she said, looking down presumably at her swollen stomach. Don imagined her rubbing her belly gently. April glanced back up at the camera. "It feels like she's been playing kickball all day. What are you up to?"

Don shrugged. "Not much really."

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing."

April's smile was replaced by a frown as she began to scold the turtle. "Donatello, I've known you long enough to know when something's the matter. Now tell me what's going on. Is it Leo? Is he okay?"

"He's depressed," Donnie said linking his hands together beneath his chin. "He sleeps a lot, doesn't want to leave his room."

"What about his physical therapy?" the red head asked. "How's that going?"

"Slow," he answered honestly. "He tires quickly. Then he gets angry because he doesn't think he's progressing fast enough." The turtle heaved a heavy sigh and looked to the side as he contemplated his next words. "He's just so…frustrated…"

There was a momentary pause as April surveyed her friend's appearance. She noted the bags under his eyes, the sag of his shoulders, and his dull expression. "It looks like he's not the only one who's frustrated, Don."

The purple-banded turtle brought his attention back to screen. He knew he could tell her anything without fear of being judged. "I wish I could do more for him, but…" He faltered off and when he spoke again his voice cracked as sudden tears stung his eyes. "…I-I can't. I don't know what else to do, April."

"Oh, Donnie," she soothed, wishing she could physically comfort him. Her green eyes shone with emotion and she clasped her hands together tightly. "Donnie, you can't be so hard on yourself! You're doing all that you can, they best way you can. Nobody doubts that for a second! Leo can't expect an overnight miracle. It's going to take time. You just have to keep up hope."

"I know," Don replied in a hoarse voice. He used a hand to scrub away the tears that had managed to slip out. "I know, I just wish I had an answer."

"You'll get one," April assured him, smiling again. "Sooner or later, you'll get one. And you know I'm always here to help, too."

"Thanks, I.."

Donatello was cut off by the sound of a child crying in the background. April glanced over her shoulder and then back at her screen.

"Toby's awake," she stated, her face apologetic.

"You should go see what he needs," Donnie insisted not at all bothered by the interruption. He knew April's "mommy" instinct wouldn't allow her to let her son cry much longer.

"Call me tomorrow?"

The genius simply nodded.

"Get some sleep, Donnie. You need it."

"I will."

April reached a hand towards the monitor. Her finger hesitated on the button that would shut her camera off. Even though the crying had increased in volume, she had one last optimistic remark. "Every cloud has a silver lining. Just remember that, okay? We may not see it right now, but there's a silver lining somewhere."

He nodded again. "Okay."

"Goodnight."

"Night."

In a flash, April was gone. Donatello powered off his own device and stood up. He stretched, trying to loosen the stiffness that had seemed to settle in his every muscle. Slowing, he shuffled over to his bed. Flopping down on top soft comforter, April's words resounded over and over inside his head. He wanted to believe they were true, but right now they seemed completely wrong.

Donatello slipped his mask off and wormed his way underneath the covers. For several minutes, he stared up at the ceiling, lost in thought. The genius hadn't ever believed in any form of a god, but at this very moment he found himself calling on some higher power. Silently, he prayed for his brother, prayed for a way to help him walk again, prayed for hope. Soon enough, his eyelids began to flutter and Don drifted away to the realm of sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

The colorful pages of a comic book lay open to the ceiling. Each action-packed panel waited patiently to be read, but all would be disappointed. Not quite ten minutes ago, the comic had been specifically chosen from a dusty bookshelf for the intention of providing entertainment. Unfortunately, the plot line had failed to draw the reader in and after a few aggressive page flips the book had been cast aside, smacking against the wall before falling cover side down to the floor. Normally, Michelangelo would never abuse his precious comics in such a manner and yet today he couldn't care less.

The youngest terrapin sighed loudly. He was stretched out on his bed, feet dangling over the edge as he lay on his stomach, face down in the pillow. A vague description of his mood could be summarized in a single word: bored. That's what Mikey's family would say he was if they knew he had no interest in his comics. Well, they would have said that a month ago when things were normal. But things were not normal now and Mikey was not bored. He was depressed.

It didn't seem possible that the turtle who was famous for his optimistic attitude would have ever let his sunny disposition be darkened. Yet, his dazzling smile that worked like an infection had been dormant for weeks, replaced by an awkward grin that seemed to be forced whenever it made an appearance. Mikey hated feeling this way, but it was hard for him to be happy when his oldest brother, his idol, was suffering. Especially since Leonardo had been hurt protecting him.

Rolling over onto his shell, Mikey draped an arm across his forehead, shielding his eyes from the dull light of his bedside lamp. His baby blue irises were hidden by half-closed lids. As much as he wanted sleep, he was afraid of surrendering his consciousness. These days his dreams morphed into nightmares that all ended the same way: the death of his blue-banded leader. Such visions, though unreal, pulled him from a state of rest into one where breathing was labored and sweat coursed over his skin in cold rivulets while his entire body rattled with tremors. Sleep was supposed to be a haven, but for the youngest Hamato clan member it offered no escape from the horrors of reality – the reality that Leo would probably never walk again. Try as he might, Mikey could not stop his thoughts from turning to the events of that far gone night….

He had been running ahead of his brothers, joking and laughing with them as they made their way across the rooftops that were still wet from the morning's rainstorm. As they leapt from the top of a bakery to an adjoining apartment building, the orange banded turtle was forced to stop short. Leo and Donnie were able to avoid colliding with him, but Raphael had been right on his heels and slammed into his shell. The pair skidded forward a few inches before both lost their balance and fell. Growling insults concerning Mikey's intellect and physical ability, the hot head untangled himself from his brother. Standing up, his tirade faltered as he sighted the very thing that had caused Mikey's abrupt halt. On the far side of the roof stood a wall of Foot Soldiers with Karai at its very center.

Quiet, the four brothers lined up. Mikey took the spot on Leo's left, keeping his eyes on those in front of him. He could practically see the gears turning inside the blue-banded leader's mind as he assessed the situation. Leonardo was staring hard at Karai as if trying to read her mind. It seemed as if he had for a second later he was reaching for his weapons. Mikey, Donnie, and Raph did likewise. The exact moment Mikey pulled his nun-chucks free from his belt, Karai lifted a hand and her ninjas charged.

The Hamato clan was scattered instantly as they were set upon by the Foot. Whirling his nun-chucks, Mikey went at it with a will. Bones were broken as his wooden weapons made contact with his targets and several were knocked senseless. As he maneuvered about, Mikey took note of each of his brother's positions. Donatello was the closest at about ten feet to his right. The resident genius was holding his own well enough. Raphael was further away, showing no restraint as he punched, slashed, kicked, and stabbed at anyone within reach. Leonardo had made the most progress. The terrapin leader had nearly reached Karai, switching from offensive and defensive repeatedly as he fought through the swarm of soldiers protecting their mistress.

Michelangelo was trying to force his way towards his eldest brother. It wasn't easy. For every adversary he took down, two seemed to take its place. Slowly, he began to make some head way. A quick check informed him that Raph and Don were still going strong while Leo had yet to reach the Shredder's daughter. Flipping over the head of a Foot ninja rushing at him from behind, Mikey rendered him unconscious and continued towards Leo. He managed to duck and weave through the masses, claiming a few more victims as he went. Like any true fighter, Mikey was enthused by the adrenaline rush that came with the battle, but perhaps more so for in his excitement he failed to notice that, rather than Leo, he had gotten closer to Karai. A little too close for her comfort.

After hearing the sickening crack of a target's wrist, Mikey had turned to see Karai straight ahead of him. The only thing separating them was a single Foot soldier. He heard Karai shout, but he couldn't distinguish her exact words. Twirling his weapons, Mikey took a step forward, prepared to aim a blow at the one obstacle blocking his path. As he saw the nun-chuk connect with the side on the ninja's head, he felt a sudden pain explode in his own skull, right near the temple.

Struck from behind with a wooden tanfa, Michelangelo fell to the graveled rooftop, dropping his weapons as he did. He heard Leo call out his name though the leader sounded far off. Through the haze clouding his vision, he could make out his older brother's face. It seemed to be floating towards him. The face opened its mouth and the lips had started to speak his name when a heavy groan was released instead. Then Leo's face was quickly moving away and Karai's laughter amplified inside his head.

Clapping his hands over his ears, Mikey desperately tried to block out the horrible sound. Head throbbing with pain, he rolled to his side and struggled to feet. He swayed uneasily as a wave of dizziness washed over him, but he remained upright. Opening his eyes, Mikey was greeted by a scene of mass confusion. Karai was nowhere in sight. Foot soldiers were fleeing the rooftop, many of them chased by Raphael who looked as if he had gone completely berserk. Clutching at his pounding temples, Mikey peered around for his two eldest brothers. He felt his stomach drop as he spotted them a few feet away, Donnie kneeling next to Leo who wasn't moving at all. Holding back a scream, the youngest turtle stumbled towards his leader as fast as he could.

Mikey had finally given in and allowed his eyes to close completely. A whimper escaped his lips as the rest of the night's events rolled through his mind. His fingers twitched at the memory of their being coated with sticky red blood as he, Don, and Raph carried Leo back home through the sewers. Every time Mikey had glanced down at Leo, he was nearly overcome by the urge to vomit. He was honestly glad that Donnie had barred him from the medical bay when they finally reached the lair for he was fairly certain that he would have up chucked his entire stomach if he would have watched Leo's operation. Instead, Michelangelo had sat on the couch, holding onto Master Splinter while simultaneously icing the nasty bump on the side of his head. After an eternity of waiting, Donnie had emerged from the infirmary to announce that Leo had pulled through. Mikey heard Splinter's sob of relief and he followed his father inside to see his brother.

If Mikey hadn't known better, he would have said that the thing lying on the bed was not Leonardo. Sure it was a turtle with a blue mask, but this turtle was pale and looked much too weak to be his oldest brother. Too much of his body was covered in thick bandages and the chocolate brown eyes he knew so well refused to open. As he stared at Leo's prone form, listening to Master Splinter speak to him, pangs of guilt began to assault Mikey. They came at him from everywhere, whispering that it was because of him that Leo was in this state, that Leo had almost died for him, that it was all his fault. Overwhelmed by the feeling, Mikey had rushed from the room.

It took two whole days for him to work up the courage to visit Leo again. He had entered the room and perched himself on the edge of Leo's bed. Placing a hand on his brother's shoulder, Mikey was searching for words to say when Leo opened his eyes. Mikey stared in amazement for several minutes. A grin had started to form on his face when Leo spoke those horrible words.

"Mikey...I can't feel my legs…"

The orange-banded turtle remembered shouting for Donnie, remembered being pushed out of the way so that the genius could examine Leo. As Raph and Master Splinter rushed into the room, Mikey stood next to the door, completely numb. When Donnie verbalized his diagnosis of paralysis, Mikey felt like all happiness had been taken from him, sucked out by the savage guilt that reduced him to tears.

Leo had never said outright that he blamed Mikey for what had happened. Actually, the leader didn't speak much at all. Yet, the youngest male had to wonder what Leo's thoughts were. Mikey tried to make amends through his actions – helping Leo move wherever he needed to go, bringing him fresh tea, delivering his medicine while Donatello got sleep – but that did nothing to ease the guilt inside him. He hated Karai, hated seeing Leo so miserable, but mostly he hated himself for being the cause of his brother's pain.

Tears had pooled at the corners of Mikey's eyes, some slipping down his cheeks. Sleep was finally about to embrace him when a sharp knocking sounded at his bedroom door. Mikey ignored it, even when it sounded a second time, hoping whoever was there would go away. No such luck. Receiving no response to the third series of knocks, the visitor twisted the handle and the door opened with a loud creak. Mikey hurriedly scrubbed his cheeks clean, but kept his eyes shut.

"Yo, Mike, you okay?" a low voice asked.

Michelangelo didn't need sight to tell him that it was Raphael standing in his doorway. That fact did not improve his mood at all. Frowning deeper, he rolled onto his side so that he faced the opposite wall, giving his brother a full view of his shell.

"M'fine."

"Ya sure about that?" Raph questioned, unconvinced by melancholy tone the response had been issued with. The red-banded turtle stepped across the floor over to the bed, standing so that he could look at his baby brother's face. "Ya been in here all morning. Ain't like ya to skip out on food."

"Not hungry."

Raphael quirked an eye ridge and smiled slightly. "All right who are ya and what have ya done with my brother?"

"Not funny," Mikey commented, his eyes still closed tight.

"S'matter, Mike?" the elder of the two questioned. Raph's face took on a slightly worried expression as he pressed a hand to Mikey's forehead. "Ya feeling sick?"

Michelangelo slapped the hand away. "Fuck off, Raph."

Raphael was momentarily taken aback by his brother's harsh response. A scowled formed on his features as he stared down at the turtle on the bed. "What the hell's your problem?"

The baby blue eyes snapped open to glare at the taller male. Michelangelo's problem was standing right in front of him. Raphael was no leader. He was just a big, dumb jerk. It didn't matter what Master Splinter had said. For Mikey, Leonardo was still in charge.

"Leave me alone!" the nun-chucker demanded. When Raphael did nothing other than fold his arms over his chest, Mikey sat up quickly, raising himself on his knees so that he was face to face with his brother. Teeth bared, he pointed towards the door. "Get out!"

Raph was not the least bit intimidated. He was, however, pissed off now. Today was not the first day that Mikey had acted like this and frankly, Raph had had enough. His response came out in a dangerous growl.

"I don't know what the hell crawled up yer ass lately, but ya need to get over it. Ya got a problem with me? Then say it to my face. Right now."

He waited for a response, but none came. All the things Mikey wanted to say couldn't seem to move from his thoughts to his move. He broke the gaze he shared with his brother, looking down at his hands instead which had curled into fists.

Raphael scoffed. He turned from the bed and began walking from the room. Mikey's eyes tracked his movement.

"Training in the dojo in half an hour. Splinter's expects ya ta be there. He's fed up with ya skipping out on it and so am I. Ain't fair ta the rest of us." He paused at the door. Hand lingering on the doorknob, he looked back over his shoulder to issue one final warning "Don't make me have ta come back up here ta haul yer ass down there."

Michelangelo raised a middle finger at the door after it had been slammed shut. With a sigh of both resignation and disgust, he stood up from the bed and began to look for his nun-chuks. He barely spared the discarded comic a glance as he searched.


	6. Chapter 6

A skinny sliver of steam twisted free from hot liquid, carrying with it an earthly aroma and the slightest floral hint. Before the wispy vapor was could grow much taller, a sudden burst of cool air caused it to dissipate completely. Ripples died on the surface of the brown liquid and a new brave curl of smoke began to rise in place of its predecessor.

Master Splinter gave his cup a gentle swirl as he tried to cool the tea inside. After another breathy blow to his beverage, the old rat raised the cup to his lips and took a tentative sip. The heat that filled his mouth was comfortingly familiar and he was grateful for the warmth the tea provided as it continued down his throat. As he took another drink, his eyes looked over the rim of the cup at the only other occupant in his room: Leonardo.

A small wooden table separated father and son. The blue-banded turtle sat cross-legged, shoulders slumped despite his intentions to sit with his back straight. In his hands was his own cup, the contents of which he was eyeing sullenly rather than drinking.

"You know you are free to speak your mind in this place, my son," Splinter said, setting his cup down. "Tell me what has you so bothered that you cannot even enjoy a cup of tea with your father."

Leonardo looked up quickly, startled from his reverie by the sudden comment. "N-nothing, Sensei." He took a hasty sip of his tea. "I am enjoying this."

Splinter raised a dubious eyebrow. "I have learned many things during my long life, Leonardo, but I have yet to understand why children never realize that their parents always know when they are lying."

The terrapin's cheeks reddened and his gaze dropped back down to the drink in his hand. He bit at his lip, trying to think of how to put his thoughts into words. Fingers lightly drumming the sides of his cup, he summoned up the courage to speak. "I…I just thought that I would have made progress by now…"

Silence fell between them once more as Splinter considered both his son's admission and appearance. In the past several weeks Leonardo had undergone some drastic weight loss. This was due mainly to Donatello's strict regimen for his older brother which, although allotted time for physical exercise, was therapeutically designed and much more lax than Leonardo's former daily routine. Leo had tried to sway Donnie, insisting that maintaining his habits would help him to heal faster. Not willing to risk anything, the genius refused to reconsider, even going so far as to get Master Splinter to back his decision knowing that his brother would never disobey their father. The first leader was forbidden from being in the dojo alone and his weapons had been confiscated. Without the means to sustain it, Leo's musculature soon had deteriorated.

So had his youthful appearance. A new set of tiny wrinkles now graced the corners of his eyes or the seemingly ever present dark circles below his brown irises. They, in addition to the thin line that he pressed his mouth into, made the turtle looked much older than his twenty-two years.

"Ah, but you have made progress," Splinter proclaimed, stroking his gray beard. "Your body has been healing. The pain you feel as a result of your injuries is almost nonexistent. You are no longer confined to your bed and can move around almost completely unaided."

"Only because of everything Donnie has done," Leo muttered bitterly. His hand reached over to touch the crutches that lay by his side. After countless hours of exhausting practice under Don's instruction, he had learned to maneuver himself around on them despite the total lack of feeling below his knees. But even this achievement was not enough independence for the prideful turtle. "I've done nothing on my own."

"There is no shame in receiving help, especially not when it is given by your family who loves you and is concerned about your well-being."

"I know that!" the student snapped, slamming a fist down on the table. Pieces of the china tea set rattled loudly. "I just don't want it! I…" His angered expression gave way to one of sorrow. Leo hung his head as his voice faltered. "What I want…"

Splinter waited for his son to continue but he did not. Ignoring the creak of his joints, the rat rose to his feet and shuffled over to the other side of the table to kneel before Leonardo. He extended a hand towards his son's face and slowly lifted it. His heart nearly broke at the sight of hot tears streaking the leaf green cheeks.

"What you want is the same thing I want," Splinter finished, wiping the wetness away. "For you to regain complete use of your legs once. It is an honest goal and let there be no doubt in your mind that you have my support as you strive to achieve it."

"But what if this is permanent?" Leo wondered in a raspy tone. "It's been over two months…"

"Then you adapt," the rat replied simply. "And live on knowing that you have not only my support, but the support of your brothers and the Jones family as well." A fresh wave of tears leaked free from Leo's eyes. Splinter pulled him into a hug, fighting back his own tears. "Oh, Leonardo, you have always been the most patient of my sons. You must continue to have patience now. Have you ever mastered a kata without investing time into learning it?" He felt his son slowly shake his head. "Likewise, you cannot overcome this misfortune in a single night, but one day you will find yourself in control of it."

"How can you be so sure?"

Splinter leaned back to lock eyes with his son. "Because I know you."

The response that Leo was about to issue died in his throat as a knock sounded at the door.

"Enter!" Splinter called out, turning to look toward the entryway.

The door slowly slid open revealing a hesitant Raphael. He stood inside the frame, stooping a little to keep from smacking his head on the top. Eyes trained on the floor, he rubbed his neck nervously as he began speaking quickly.

"Hey, Sensei, I was wondering if I could talk ta ya fer a minute about…" Raph trailed off as he looked up and spotted his brother. "Oh…uh….hey, Leo."

"H-hey," the elder managed to say, keeping his gaze averted as he tried to inconspicuously wipe his eyes.

"Sorry, I didn't know you were in here, bro."

"…it's okay."

Silence fell in the room. Splinter looked from one son to the other. It was hard not to notice the tension between the two. Clearing his throat, the rat master spoke up.

"What did you wish to discuss with me, Raphael?" he inquired.

"Huh? Oh…um…" the red-banded terrapin stammered, his golden irises switching over to his father. "…never mind. It can wait. I'll just try and catch ya later after…" He glanced back at Leo who was blatantly ignoring him. Raph held back a sad sigh. "…after practice."

"Very well then," Splinter said, offering him a small smile. "I will make time for you then, Raphael."

"Great…" he replied, turning to leave. "…uh…thanks."

Raph carefully slid the door shut, leaving his father and brother alone again. His steps as he walked across the lair to the dojo seemed weighted. In the past, it had been a rare occurrence that he willingly sought an audience with his master. Now, however, he found himself going to his father more and more whether it be for simple conversation or for advice. While Raph did find their talks to be of great help, the person that he really wished he could speak to was Leonardo.

Stopping in the area where his exercise equipment was located, Raphael began to stretch his muscles to warm up for his workout. As he did, his mind buzzed with thoughts about how much his life had changed since that night Leo had almost been killed by Karai. He had gone from being a flunky to being a leader practically overnight. This incident had apparently caused his oldest brother to hate him with the fiery passion of a thousand suns because Leo would barely look at him let alone talk to him. In fact, Leo seemed to try to avoid him at all costs.

As he settled himself on his weight bench, Raph had to wonder if this was all thanks to karma. All the years he spent defying his older brother, questioning his authority, and arguing with his decisions had finally come around to bite him in the ass. Leo had no respect for Raph which was as much as Raph had given him. Their roles had reversed completely, the only difference being that Leo didn't have to obey Raph's commands. Because Leo couldn't walk.

Raph picked up the weight bar and slowly started to pump his arms. He hated himself for taking his brother for granted. Quite frankly, being a leader sucked. It was not as glorious as he always imagined it to be. Leonardo had made it seem so easy. Then again, Leo was flawless – the perfect son, the perfect ninja, and the perfect leader.

Standing up, the hot head added more weight before resuming his former pace. Testament to Leonardo's ability lay in the fact that all loyalty was to him. At least, Michelangelo made damn sure that was obvious. The chucklehead obeyed Raph with reluctance, that is, when he chose to obey. More than once, his younger brother had walked out of the dojo in the middle of practice. Mikey never joked with him anymore, didn't beg for him to watch stupid cartoons or play some ridiculous game. Instead, he followed Leonardo around like some lost puppy – a lost puppy that went berserk, barking and growling any time Raph tried to go near him or his owner.

Another fifty pounds caused Raphael to break a sweat as his arms moved up and down repeatedly. Donatello, on the other hand, had to be a god send. The purple-banded turtle was trying his hardest to be supportive of both the former and the current clan leader. With neither Mikey nor Leo speaking to him, Raph often found himself in the company of his second oldest brother. Donnie was his confidant, his right hand man who kept him up to date on everything. In addition to caring for and attempting to cure Leo, Donnie had been focusing on finding Karai. All information he gathered was relayed to Raph and the two were slowly devising a plan for avengement. While Raph knew that he would have Donnie at his back, he constantly worried whether he could count on Mikey to pull through for him when the time came for them to make their move.

A loud clang echoed through the dojo as Raph racked his weights. His hands came down to cover his eye, thumbs rubbing at his temples. Headaches were a near constant irritant to him now. He thought he could simply imitate Leo and everything would be all right. But nothing was right, it was all wrong. Raph desperately wished for things to go back to the way they were before, prayed for a miracle to make Leo walk again, begged for whatever gods existed to have mercy on them all, and cursed fate for its cruelty. Never in a million years did Raph ever imagine that he could admit that he needed Leonardo.

Tears began to prick the corners of his eyes. Raphael sniffed hard as he tried to keep them at bay. As usual, his emotions got the better of him and drops began falling, splashing onto the floor of the dojo. His entire body was jarred by a hard realization.

That he would give anything to have his big brother back.


	7. Chapter 7

The noxious fumes of burned gasoline hung heavy. Tantalizing aromas emanating from a dozen different restaurants couldn't mask the petroleum scent. Neither could the stench of garbage rotting in the alley dumpsters. Donatello breathed deeply, his sharp senses taking in all of the odors at once. New York City air was far from fresh, but for a turtle who made his home in the sewers it was a welcome change.

Perched high on a rooftop, Donnie scanned over a portion of the numerous streets and buildings contained within the Brooklyn borough. The night was cooled by a playful breeze that tugged on the tails of his mask. It had been a while since the genius had journeyed to the surface and the open atmosphere was a nice change from the hidden confines of their underground lair. But something was keeping him from completely enjoying the experience. Glancing to his left, he realized what that something was.

There, where Leonardo  _should_ have been, was a void.

Donatello shifted nervously. The empty space made him uncomfortable. He had always stood at the right hand of his only older brother and the fact that Leo was not beside him was a change he was struggling to accept. Instead of leading his clan on tonight's mission, Leonardo had been left behind with Master Splinter.

No one in the Hamato family was happy about that, but there really was no other choice. Although Leo was now able to easily maneuver himself around on his crippled legs with the aid of crutches, he was still essentially immobile. Crutches weren't exactly designed for running or roof jumping.

Donatello smiled bitterly. He wouldn't put it past Leo to try just that. The blue-clad turtle was just as stubborn and independent as the red-clad turtle if not more.

With that thought, Donnie turned his head to the right to look at Raphael. The newly appointed leader stood with one foot resting on top of the low wall that lined the edge of the building. His arms rested on top of his bent knee as he leaned forward to survey the world before him. The expression on his face was one of great concentration, but Donnie knew his brother's mind was on matters other than the happenings of the humans far below.

That was another thing off-kilter. Raphael had always been fascinated by the surface world, had always been eager to visit this strange place and observe it strange inhabitants. His excitement would show in the twinkle of his golden eyes anytime they headed topside. Tonight, however, Don was saddened to realize that that spark of anticipation had smoldered. Instead it had been replaced by a grim determination that made his brother appear all the more intimidating. Any joy Raph once felt at being above ground was gone and he was more withdrawn than ever.

But Raph's aloof attitude was nowhere near as unsettlingly abnormal as Michelangelo's muted mood.

Donnie shifted his gaze past the brooding sai-wielder to where the youngest member of the Hamato clan stood several feet away. Arms crossed over chest, Mikey kept his shell turned to them as he looked out over the far side of the building. The normally happy-go-lucky turtle had not uttered a single word since they left the lair. He had been keeping himself at a distance all night and the rigidity of his pose signaled clearly to those around him to stay out of his personal space.

The genius studied his littlest brother's shadowed form. Earlier in the day, Mikey had been perfectly fine, chatting amicably with Leo as the two had watched TV together. Now, the jokester was sullen, like some internal switch had been thrown that shut him down completely. Donnie could guess as to the reason for Mikey's drastic personality change, but he couldn't be certain. Not unless he could get Mikey to talk to him.  
As he thought about the right way to approach his brother, Don's view was suddenly obstructed as Raphael straightened up and stepped back from the ledge. The new leader allowed his attention to linger on scene below for another minute before switching it to Donatello who met his brother's gaze and gave a short nod in response to the unspoken message delivered to him. Don offered Raph an encouraging smile. It was a gesture that was returned briefly and disappeared as Raph looked to Michelangelo.

"Let's move," Raph said to his brother's shell.

Mikey's head swiveled around at the sound of Raphael's voice. A deep frown pulled the corners of his mouth down as he glowered at the elder turtle. Turning around, Mikey began making his was back across the rooftop. Satisfied that his sibling had obeyed, Raph spun around and headed towards the building's south side, increasing his pace to a run. Just before the edge, he jumped and launched himself off the ledge, clearing the gap to the next structure with ease. Wordlessly, the two remaining terrapins followed suit.

Raphael did not need to look back to know that his brothers were right behind him. Though they were quiet, his keen hearing could still pick up their quick breathing and their light footsteps. Moving swiftly, he led them further away from the heart of Brooklyn.

Their purpose was nothing more than a simple training run. That was all that Raph had been able to get Master Splinter to agree to and it had not been easy by any means. It had taken several days of persuasion to get the rat to even consider the idea of allowing his three uninjured sons out of the sewers. After much meditation, he had finally relented, but it had still taken a week before he allowed them to leave.

During that time, Raph had been in almost constant company with his father, barraged by an endless series of lectures about how he should conduct himself, how he should uphold his responsibilities, and how he should bring his brothers home safely. Raphael had sat through it all, struggling to hold his tongue as his patience was worn thin. At long last, Splinter had released him with his blessing that he could take his brothers out for exercises. That had been little more than an hour ago and as they were walking out the door, the red-banded turtle could clearly see the hesitation on his father's face.

The look made Raph wonder if Master Splinter had a complete lack of faith in him as a leader. With an extreme amount of effort, he had pushed that thought aside and exited the lair with his team. An intense rush of relief overcame him as they walked through the sewer tunnels. He had needed to get away from that miserable, moping atmosphere. But even as they had surfaced and hurried to the roofs, Raph realized that he found no joy in this long awaited freedom. Try as he might, he could not think of a single reason to be happy as he had surveyed the city.

Cars honked and people shouted far below as the three turtles raced across the rooftops. Their excursion took them along a familiar path that led to the East River. Already they could see the warehouses that sat near the waterfront. Dodging between shadows they drew nearer until Raphael held up his right hand, bringing them to a halt on top of a decaying brick building that had formerly been a factory of some sort in its glory days. Together they stood in the middle of the roof, panting slightly as they regained their breath.

"Why the shell did you drag us all the way down here?" Michelangelo demanded suddenly, breaking the stillness of the night as he glared at his larger sibling.

Raphael exchanged quick glances with Donatello. Both were surprised by Mikey's spontaneous decision to speak after his long bout of silence and the angry tone with which his words had been spoken.

"Told ya 'fore we left that we were goin' out for a training run," Raph replied calmly as he folded his arms across his chest.

Mikey rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know that, idiot. I meant why, out of all the possible places in this city that you could have gone, did you pick this place?" He gestured towards the river. "It frickin' stinks!"

The sai-wielder bristled at his brother's insult. Eyes narrowing, he failed to keep all of the anger out of his voice as he replied. "Yeah, well, so does your attitude, Mikey!"

"Oh, you're one to talk!" the youngest shot back. "Everybody always has to tip toe around you because they're afraid you're gonna blow up at them for no reason!" Putting his hands on his hips, he changed his features into a look of mock sympathy. "Poor Raphael! Nobody knows what he has to go through every day of his pathetic life! Let him pound people's faces in because it makes him feel better about himself!"

The outburst stunned had Raph into wide-eyed silence. He had no idea who this turtle in front of him was, but it sure wasn't the little brother he had grown up with. His lack of reaction prompted Donatello to rise to his defense.

"Michelangelo," the peaceful turtle began. Stepping forward, he placed a gentle hand on Mikey's shoulder. "That was uncalled for. I think you owe Raph an apology..."

"No," Mikey refused as he shoved Donnie's hand away. "I don't care what you think and I don't have to listen to you! You're not the boss of me!" His angry eyes flipped back to Raph. "And neither are you!"

Hearing this snapped Raphael out of his state of shock.

"That's where yer wrong!" he growled. Lifting a finger, he pointed it at Mikey threateningly. "I am the boss of ya whether ya like it or not and I say ya ain't got no right ta talk ta Donnie or me like that."

"I'll talk any way I want," Mikey sneered.

"Geezus, yer actin' like a fucking three year old!" Raph declared. He moved forward until he was face-to-face with his orange-banded sibling and prodded him in the chest. "Grow the hell up, Mikey! I'm getting really sick of yer shit!"

"Fuck off!" the youngest dared to shout as he slapped Raph's hand aside. "If you're so sick of me then leave me the hell alone!"

"Goddammit, Mikey, what the hell's the matter with ya?" Raph wondered as his struck hand curled into a fist. His face was a mixture of frustration and concern. "This ain't like ya at all and it's…"

His words died instantly as he caught sight of movement out of the corner of his eye. Raph's head snapped in the direction of the river which was still several yards away. From their vantage point, he could see the across the tops of the tin-sided warehouses – one of which had just been scaled by a half dozen people dressed all in black with a red insignia stitched upon their upper right arms.

The Foot.

"Disappear!" Raphael hissed.

At once all three slunk back into the dark shadow of the crumbling smoke stack. Motionless, they watched the group for a few tense minutes to see if they had been spotted. Not one head turned their way.

Raphael released a breath he had inadvertently been holding. He had worried that his and Mikey's shouting had attracted unwanted attention. Thankfully, it seemed that their position on the factory roof was too far and too high for them to have been heard or seen from where their enemy had gathered. As the tiny bit of panic left him, Raph found himself intrigued by their sudden appearance.

"What the hell are these guys doin' down here?" the new leader whispered to Donnie.

The purple-banded turtle watched as the Foot soldiers moved inward toward the building's raised skylight. "I don't know," he replied with a shake of his head. "But they seem a bit out of their neck of the woods, don't they?"

"Well then I say we send them home," Mikey chimed in.

Freeing his nunchucks from his belt, he began to advance. Before he could take more than two steps, a hand had wrapped around his upper left arm and pulled him to a stop. Annoyed, Mikey glanced back over his shoulder to discover that the hand belonged to Raphael.

"Hold up," Raph said lowly. "I know damn well that ya heard Splinter say we ain't supposed ta do anything more than our training run and ta bring our shells straight home. Ya ain't goin' down there, Mikey."

"And when the hell has what Splinter said ever stopped you?" Michelangelo asked, trying to tug his arm free. "If things were the way they're supposed to be, YOU would have been down there kicking ass already."

Raphael tightened his grip. "Things change."

"Yeah…"Mikey agreed slowly. "I guess they do…"

The smaller terrapin suddenly lifted his right arm to swing a fist into his brother's face. Caught off guard, Raph stumbled back a bit as the heavy blow threw off his balance. Michelangelo used the opportunity to pull free and, without a second thought, sprinted off towards the edge of the roof.

"Mikey!" Donatello called out after him.

Without slowing or looking back, Mikey leapt off the building and out of sight. Sighing, Donnie turned back to look at Raph. The sai-wielder was leaning against the smoke stack with one hand while the other wiped blood off of his swelling lip.

"Raph, are you okay?" the genius inquired gently.

"Yeah, m'alright," he grumbled as he examined the red substance now smeared across the back of his fingers. Straightening up, pushed off of the brick and stepped closer to Don. "C'mon. If we can't stop him, we better at least make sure he don't get his shell handed to him by those Foot flunkies…"

Breaking into a run, the two took off in hot pursuit of their little brother.

X

Master Splinter made a small noise of displeasure. His clawed fingers drummed irritably against his wooden walking stick that lay across his lap as he sat on the couch. Before him, the television monolith had just begun to play the first advertisement of what promised to be a very long commercial break, prolonging the time that it would take to reveal the latest secret on his daily soap opera. The rat had patience for many things. Commercials were not on that list.

Seated on the cushion next to him was Leonardo who preferred the entertainment of his novel as opposed to that on the screens. He smiled behind the pages of his book, amused by his father's antsy behavior over the foolishness of television drama. The emptiness of the lair had given him peace of mind that he had not felt for a long time. Unfortunately, that peace was about to be shattered.

Halfway through a plug for a fast food restaurant, the door to the lair burst open. Splinter's head pivoted towards the entrance as he prepared to greet his three younger sons, but the words failed him as he watched Donatello shuffle in awkwardly, leaning on Raphael for support as Michelangelo trailed behind them. Instantly, the ninja master was on his feet.

"What has happened?" he demanded fiercely as he made his way towards them.

His question went unanswered due to the bickering that was occurring amongst the three.

"…guys…just stop…." Donnie pleaded, sounding tired. Blood ran in streaks down his right arm despite the red fabric that had been tied around his upper bicep.

"…would let me help…" Mikey was saying. His left eye was swollen shut and his cheek was scratched.

Mask-less and sweaty, Raphael froze momentarily before whipping around to face the smaller turtle.

"Ya've helped enough, Michelangelo!" Raph thundered, his golden eyes flashing dangerously as he continued to hold up his injured sibling. "Donnie got hurt because of ya! I told ya not ta go down there! I told ya ta leave well enough alone! I told ya to get the fuck out of there before they blew that fucking place sky high! But yer cocky little ass decided it didn't have ta listen! Ya thought ya was gonna be the goddamn hero and save the fucking day!"

"We got out, didn't we?!" Mikey interrupted angrily. "What's the big damn deal?!"

"The big damn deal, ya little prick," Raph snarled, "is that we could have lost one of our own all cuz ya have yer head stuck up yer ass!" He took a step towards Mikey who stubbornly stood his ground. Once again, Raph jabbed a finger into the other's chest as he issued a command. "The next time ya got a problem with me, ya take it up with me! Don't make Donnie suffer for it!"

With that, Raph turned back around. Brushing past his father, he began guiding Donatello to the infirmary, but stopped again when he spotted Leonardo. The oldest had risen from the couch and now stood, supported by his crutches, at the edge of the living room watching the scene unfold before him. Disappointment rolled off of him in waves. Frowning deeply, he shook his head in disgust.

Raphael's chest tightened as he saw his former leader's reaction. He wanted desperately to say something to his big brother, but couldn't find the courage to do so. Head hanging in shame, he readjusted his hold on Donatello and resumed his quick march to the infirmary. Once inside, he slammed the door shut, leaving Michelangelo with the task of explaining the night's events to Splinter.


	8. Chapter 8

Raphael tried not grimace at the bloody mess that was Donatello's right arm. Fingers trembling, he reached for his mask tied securely around his sibling's limb and began to pull the knot apart as gently as possible. His hands jerked back when a sudden noise of discomfort escaped the wounded turtle. Biting his lip, Raph gave his older brother an apologetic look.

"S-sorry," he sputtered.

"It's okay. I'm fine," Donnie responded quietly from atop the infirmary's examination table. Eyes downcast, he refused to meet his new leader's gaze. "You can keep going."

With a quick nod of his head, Raph resumed his grisly task. The saturated fabric clung to the scientist's flesh, stuck by the blood that had already dried into a thick crust. Tugging hard, Raph managed to peel away his ruined mask. He tossed it aside and instead picked up a clean towel which he then dipped into a metal pan filled with hot, soapy water. Wringing out the excess liquid, he gripped his brother's arm firmly with one hand and proceeded to clean the gory flesh.

Donatello grit his teeth, trying to keep silent his noises of discomfort as his wound was agitated. It wasn't often that he got hurt, but now that he had, the purple-banded turtle decided he much preferred the role of doctor to that of patient. Raphael's hands were used to inflicting pain, not treating it. That much was obvious as the hothead clumsily tried to mend his brother.

"Don't look like there's anything stuck in there," Raph announced after the blood had been washed away. The towel plopped back into the water with a small splash as he bent closer to confirm that his assumption was correct. "Feel like there's anything in there?"

Donatello shook his head. "No."

Raphael eyed the sliced skin critically. Although he didn't have the medical expertise that his brother possessed, he had been sewed up enough times to know whether or not an injury required sutures.

"It ain't deep enough for ya ta need stitches," the larger turtle declared sounding somewhat relieved. "Just gotta clean it and bandage it."

"That's good."

The monotonous response pulled the corners of Raph's mouth into an even deeper frown. Reaching for the bottle of antiseptic, he twisted the cap off and moistened a cluster of cotton balls with the strong-smelling iodine solution. He used them to dab at Donnie's wound, tightening his grip when the other turtle tried to pull away from the stinging assault. Once he had cleaned the entire afflicted area, the new leader smeared a generous amount of ointment over the tender flesh before covering it with a thick gauze pad which he bound in place.

"Thanks," Donatello mumbled.

Moving slowly, he scooted to the edge of the examination table and planted his feet on the floor. His bruised body protested, shooting darts of pain through every limb and appendage as he forced himself to stand. He tried to free himself once again, but Raph held on, stopping him from leaving. Confused, Donnie finally looked at his brother. What he saw surprised him - a humble Raphael who was silently begging for forgiveness with his golden eyes.

"How long ya gonna be mad at me?" the red-banded turtle inquired softly.

Donnie was quiet for a moment as he studied his brother's face. Sighing, he eased himself back into his former seat.

"I'm not mad at you, Raph. I'm mad about the situation. We got our shells handed to us tonight, but that's not your fault."

"Yeah it is," Raphael muttered bitterly while hanging his head in shame. "Ya wouldn't have gotten hurt if I woulda had my act together…I-I…I'm sorry Donnie…"

"It's not your fault," Don repeated. "You tried to avoid the fight. You told Mikey to stand down. He acted on his own free will when he went chasing after the Foot and you were only trying to make sure he made it home tonight, which you did. So stop blaming yourself for what happened."

Raph considered his brother's words as he rubbed a hand across his face. He was tired and his body ached, but he knew that he would get no rest unless he dealt with the nagging thoughts stuck in his mind. With his fingers covering his weary eyes, he posed a question.

"Why does Mikey hate me?"

"…He doesn't hate you…"

"Ya heard what he said!" Raph snapped, his head jerking up. "Ya saw what he did! How can ya sit there and say that he don't feel that way?"

"Because he's Mikey," Donnie replied calmly. "And Mikey doesn't hate anybody."

"Except me."

The genius had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at Raph's pessimism. Extending his uninjured arm, he placed a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder.

"You can't think like that, Raph, because, one, it's not true and, two, it's only going to make you miserable. Do you ever remember Mikey being this angry before?"

Raph thought for a moment and then slowly shook his head.

"Me neither," Donnie agreed while removing his hand. "He always finds a reason to be happy, but lately…" The second oldest paused as he contemplated how to explain his theory. "…he can't let go of his anger over what Karai did and I think it's because he doesn't know how to deal with that emotion. Unfortunately, he decided to take it out on you…and me…and everyone who's not Leo."

"I dunno, Donnie…" the other turtle said. Looking off to the left, he reached up to scratch at the back of his neck. "…maybe yer right, but…."His gaze returned to his brother. "…what the hell I am supposed ta do? How am I supposed ta fix this mess? Splinter ain't ever gonna trust me with ya guys again."

"Yes he will," Don argued. "You just need to explain what happened tonight."

"Yeah, can't wait for that conversation," the hothead grumbled sarcastically. "…Leo always made this leader shit look easy…"

"…maybe you should go talk to him…"

Raphael meant to laugh, but it came out sounding more like a strangled sob.

"I want ta, Donnie…I try ta, but…he don't want nothing ta do with me...fuck, man…" Hands curling into fists, Raph glanced at Donatello. His vision blurred as tears crowded the corners of his eyes. "…it's like yer the only brother I got left…"

XXXXX

"And then what happened?"

Master Splinter's tone was sharp as prompted his youngest son to continue the tale of the night's events. Tail swishing back and forth, he impatiently tapped one finger against the top of his walking stick as he waited for a reply. Michelangelo knelt before his father near the edge of the lair's vast pool, hands resting on his knees as he studied the floor. Taking a deep breath, he resumed his story.

"I didn't wait for Don or Raph," the orange-banded turtle said, his voice so low that it was hard to hear. "I went down into the warehouse and started fighting."

"Raphael was supposed to take you on a training run and nothing more," Leonardo's harsh voice suddenly inserted. "He shouldn't have ordered you to attack."

Lifting his gaze, Mikey stared at his eldest brother with his one un-swollen eye. Leo was positioned next to Splinter, leaning heavily on his crutches. Sweat was beginning to bead on his forehead from the effort of hold himself upright, but the proud turtle refused to give in and rest. It was obvious that he was angry even though the emotion was absent from his expressionless face. Cheeks flushing, Mikey quickly returned his attention to the floor.

"He didn't," the smallest turtle admitted shamefully. "He…he told me not to go down there and…and I went anyway…"

Splinter's furry eyebrows lifted in surprise for a brief moment before settling back into their former stance.

"Why did you disobey your brother?" he questioned.

"I don't know…it just didn't seem right to walk away…"

The rat master was not pleased by his student's response. Yet, he was more interested in hearing about the night's details than chastising Michelangelo for his insubordination. That would come later.

"Raphael and Donatello followed you down?" Splinter prodded, his finger ceasing its repetition.

Mikey gave a short nod.

"What were the Foot doing there?" Leo wanted to know.

"I'm not sure. There were a lot of big boxes and barrels in the warehouse. Some of the Foot were going through everything while others loaded up a truck parked inside. The rest of them were fighting us."

"How many were there?" the former leader inquired, shifting slightly to get a better grip on his crutches.

"Maybe fifty?"

"And how did Donatello come to be injured?" their sensei wondered.

The orange-banded turtle grew hesitant. His fingers tightened their grip on his knees as a strong tremor coursed through his body. With a great amount of effort, he summoned the courage to answer the question.

"...the Foot finished loading the truck," he began to explain in a shaky breath. "So they were trying to leave. About a dozen of them were still fighting us when the truck drove away. As soon as the warehouse door had rolled shut again, the last of them started leaving through the sky light. I was about to follow after them when I heard Donnie shout something. I didn't catch everything he said, but I remember hearing "bomb". I turned around to look for him when I saw it sitting in the middle of the warehouse floor."

Here, Mikey paused to try and calm himself. His palms had become slick with sweat and he attempted to wipe them on his knee pads. A lump had formed in his throat which he swallowed before continuing.

"They must have set it while the truck was leaving. There was about three minutes on the clock and Raph was screaming at us to get out, but I…I guess I thought I could defuse it…I ran towards it and had grabbed hold of some wires...Donnie just appeared out of nowhere and made me let go…then he pushed me towards Raph who had managed to pry open the door and was holding it up…I figured Donnie would take care of it, but the next thing I know, he's got me by the arm and started running for the door…he shoved me out when the bomb went off…"

The youngest son sniffed hard. He was not going to allow himself to cry. Swallowing again, he finished his report.

"The blast threw all of us into the water. We were hit with a whole bunch of debris…a piece of the metal sliced Donnie's arm open…I don't know how badly though...the police and firemen started showing up so Raph took us to the underwater sewer entrance and we walked the rest of the way home."

Silence fell between three, each lost in their own thoughts. Mikey chanced a glance upwards to gauge his father's and his brother's reaction. The similarity between them was uncanny. Both of their mouths were pressed into thin lines as they stood motionlessly side by side observing him. Unable to stand their judging gazes, Mikey hung his head.

"Your actions tonight were very reckless, Michelangelo," Splinter finally said after some time. "Not only did you risk your own life, but the lives of your brothers as well."

"Yes, sensei," Mikey murmured in acknowledgement.

"I had expec-…"

The sound of a door swinging open interrupted the rat's impending lecture. Three heads swiveled in the direction of the infirmary as Donatello and Raphael emerged. Together, they began making their way across the lair towards the others, Raph offering support for Donnie as he limped along.

The darker-skinned turtle stopped them when they were a few feet away. He ignored his oldest and youngest siblings entirely, looking only at his father. It was an action that Don mimicked.

"Sensei," Raph greeted simply while bowing his head respectfully.

"My sons," Splinter responded. "Donatello, how is your injury?"

"It's fine," the genius answered.

Splinter glanced around at all of his children. Leonardo glared at his red-banded sibling while Michelangelo refused to look at anyone. The elder could feel the animosity in the air. It threatened to smother them all. Holding back a groan of despair, he focused on his newly chosen leader.

"Raphael, let us speak in private."

Said turtle gave a curt nod before unslinging Donnie's arm from around his shoulder.

"Ya gonna be okay, bro?" he quietly asked his intellectual ally.

"I'm fine, really," Donnie assured him for what seemed like the hundredth time.

Still feeling slightly dubious, Raph stepped away from his brother and closer to his father. Splinter turned and walked for his private suite. His hotheaded son followed obediently. The three remaining terrapins watched them walk away, maintaining their silence until Splinter's paper door had slid shut.

"Donnie….?" Mikey inquired tentatively from the floor as he finally gazed up at his bo-wielding sibling. "…are you okay?"

Donatello did not respond with words. Rather, he gave his youngest brother a steely glare before offering the same to the eldest.

"Get off your feet, Leonardo!" he commanded angrily as he viewed Leo's pale and sweaty form. The blue-banded turtle looked like he was about to drop. "Right now and for the rest of the night!" Pivoting on his heel, Donnie slowly hobbled to his room, but not without issuing a final warning. "Or you're going to set yourself back  _weeks_  in physical therapy!"


	9. Chapter 9

Bright light streamed from the fixture overhead, casting Donatello's face in shadow. His hidden features were contorted into an expression of intense concentration. No sounds escaped the brilliant turtle. Slowly and carefully, his calloused hands moved over Leonardo's lower legs, thoroughly inspecting each limb.

Perched on top of the medical bay's sole examination table, Leo watched his brother work. He was curious as to what thoughts were going through Donnie's mind. Normally, the purple-banded ninja made the effort to engage in friendly conversation, but today he had not said anything more than necessary. Leo knew that his brother's silence was an indication that Don was upset with him.

Slight though it was, the tension between them unsettled the eldest turtle. He and Donatello were rarely at odds with one another and in the few instances that they did disagree, resolution had been reached fairly quickly and with civility. As he contemplated the many possible phrases he might choose to try and kick start a conversation, Leonardo spied on the white bandage wrapped around his sibling's upper right arm.

"How are you feeling today?" the leader enquired genuinely.

Donnie's eyes shifted to Leo's face for a fleeting moment before issuing a curt reply. "I'm fine."

"Care to tell me what happened last night?"

"Didn't you hear all about it from Mikey?"

"I'd like to hear your version."

"We went out for a training run and spotted some Foot Soldiers breaking into a warehouse down by the river," Don informed him, his hands lifting away from Leo's left ankle.

He stood from the stool positioned next to the examine table and stepped to the counter behind him. Snatching a tape measure from the top drawer, he turned back towards his brother and began to determine the circumference of the older legs at various points starting with the feet. Each measurement was recorded precisely in the notebook Donnie used to document everything about Leo's treatment. As he worked, Donnie continued his rendition of last night's events.

"Raph said that we were going to leave them alone and go back to the lair. Instead of doing as he was told, Mikey ran off to go fight The Foot. We went after him to make sure he wasn't getting in over his head. Raph repeatedly ordered Mikey to retreat, but Mikey didn't listen. Then The Foot planted a bomb and left the three of us trapped inside the warehouse. For reasons I have yet to understand, Mikey ran towards the bomb and started messing with it. While Raph was busy trying to create an exit for us, I went to stop Mikey. I would have defused the bomb, but that idiot's messing around made things worse and we didn't have the time for me to figure out how to fix it. I had to drag Mikey's shell to the door and force him out. Raph was holding the door open for us. He just barely managed to slip out himself when the bomb went off and the blast threw us all into the river. The police and emergency crews started showing up so we came straight home."

Finishing his task, Donatello returned the tape measure to its storage location. He sat back down on the stool and proceeded to pen a summary of his observations in his notebook. Leonardo squirmed on the bed, trying to ease the discomfort of sitting in the same position for too long. Unsatisfied by the genius's terse answer, Leo prompted him further.

"I can't believe Michelangelo thought he could deactivate a bomb."

Donnie spared him a quick glance and continued writing. "Neither can I."

"It's not like him to be so reckless or outright disobedient," Leo mused. With his left hand he rubbed at his right shoulder which was a bit tender from his extended use of crutches.

"No, it's not," Don agreed while shaking his head.

"Do you know why he's acting like this?"

"It's more of a theory than actual knowledge."

"Care to share it?"

Pen pausing on paper mid-stroke, Donnie raised his gaze to finally meet Leonardo's fully. What he saw was a weakened turtle desperate to maintain whatever fragile hold he had on his former title and role of leader. The pitiful sight made Don's heart ache. Taking a deep breath, he pivoted on his stool to place his pen and notebook down on the counter. His fingers laced together over his lap as he spun back around to respond to his brother's request.

"Have you ever heard of the K **ü** bler-Ross Model?"

The blue-banded turtle shook his head. "No."

"Well, it's more commonly known as the five stages of grief," Donnie explained. "Elizabeth K **ü** bler-Ross was a psychiatrist. In 1969, she published a book in which she hypothesized that people faced with death or dealing with the death of someone go through five different emotional stages: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Not everyone experiences these stages, but it's also possible that a person can experience each stage more than once. Though K **ü** bler-Ross originally based her hypothesis on her observations of people who were terminally ill, she later theorized that this model applied to less severe traumas like relationship break-up, job loss, incarceration, injury, disability, and so on."

Don stopped to make sure that his brother understood. Leo gave a short nod of comprehension - an indication that the younger turtle should continue. Rubbing his chin pensively, Don took a moment to contemplate the best way to voice his thoughts.

"Leo," he began, his tone somewhat hesitant. "Ever since you woke up and realized that this…" His attention switched briefly to his brother's useless legs. "…happened, I've watched you work your way through these stages." Seeing Leonardo open his mouth, Donnie held up a hand to staunch his brother's impending objection. "Hear me out, Leo. Despite what you tell yourself, you are grieving the loss of your mobility. We are all dealing with that same grief, but we're dealing with it in different ways. Mikey seems to be stuck in the anger stage and his method of coping is to act out and lash out at anyone besides you and I think the main reason for this is that he blames himself for what happened to you."

"But that's not his fault," Leonardo insisted.

"I know it's not. Unfortunately, Mikey doesn't realize this."

"Have you talked to him about all of this?"

Sighing, Donnie gave his shoulders a small shrug. "I've tried to on multiple occasions, but whenever I start to talk about anything deeper than 'Hey, how are you?' he finds an excuse to be somewhere else doing something or other. I really don't know what to do. It seems like you're the only one he can have a civil conversation with."

Leonardo lifted a hand to his forehead and gently massaged his temples as he processed all that his sibling had said. The dysfunction in the small clan he had formerly helmed was an added stress to his already troubled mind. Still, he was determined to help in any way possible.

"I can try talking to him later," he finally offered after a few quiet minutes had passed.

"Well, good luck," Donatello wished and reached for his notebook once more. "I hope that you can get through to him." Clicking his pen, he resumed writing where he had left off. "Truth be told, I'm beyond frustrated with Mikey right now."

Curiosity piqued, the katana-wielder let his hand drop back down to his side and peered at Don. "Why's that?"

Again, Donnie paused, this time biting his lip as he chose his words. "You know…Mikey has always been carefree and kind. I'd never suspect that he had a mean bone in his body. Even when he was pulling stupid pranks…it was never spiteful…he did it for a laugh. Thinking back on it now, I'd say that Mikey especially liked to pick on Raph just to rile him up, but again, it was all in good fun. These last few weeks though…he's been downright viscous. The way he talks to Raph now…I can't believe some of the things that come out of his mouth. He doesn't listen, undermines authority, and he directs all of his anger at Raph."

"Sounds like Raph is getting a taste of his own medicine," Leonardo stated with just the slightest hint of satisfaction.

The comment made the purple-banded turtle bristle and the edges of his mouth were pulled down into a frown. "I'm not going to deny that Raph made things difficult for you. He was rebellious, rude, and extremely stubborn. But don't you think you could be just a little bit supportive of him? He's trying his hardest to stay in control and be a good leader."

Leo couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice or the scowl off of his face as he issued a reply. "How many times has he whined about not getting to be the leader? Well, he's got his wish! Now he's going to learn all about the responsibilities, struggles, and stress that come with it!"

"You're wrong," Donnie rebutted. He could feel his temper beginning to rise, a rarity for the normally passive ninja. "Never in a million years would Raph wish for this. He doesn't want to be leader. He wants  _you_  to be leader."

"Yeah, right," the elder scoffed. "Do you really expect me to believe that?"

"Well, I certainly didn't expect you'd be such an embittered ass about it!" Don snapped, standing from his seat. "I get that you are dealing with a lot right now, Leo, both physically and emotionally, but you are acting like a child! You give Raph the cold shoulder whenever he enters a room! You either ignore him or give non-verbal responses any time he tries to talk to you! You pout if he has Master Splinter's attention for more than half an hour! And you threw a fit when he offered to help with your physical therapy!"

Leonardo's eyes widened at his younger brother's outburst. He could count on one hand the number of times he had witnessed Donatello yell so to see the genius's face contorted with rage was unsettling to say the least. The harsh words were hard to listen to and they provoked his own anger. Eyeridges knitting together, Leo attempted to interrupt, but Don was on a roll.

"Raph has tried over and over and over to be there for you and you've pushed him away every single time!" the olive-colored turtle thundered. "Then, when he gives up and lets you have your space, you have the gall to say that he doesn't care about you! Tell me, Leonardo, when did you become such a big hypocrite?"

The elder's cheeks flushed as the veracity of Don's words hit home. Hands white-knuckling either side of the exam table, he tried to speak to his defense.

"Well, Raph hasn't…"

"Uh-uh, no," Don cut in, point a finger at Leo. "You do not get to blame Raph for anything!  _None_  of this is his fault! If you want to be mad at somebody, be mad at Karai!  _She_  did this to you, not him!"

Slack-jawed, Leo was humbled into silence. Unable to meet his brother's gaze, he stared down at his hands instead. Donatello's features softened as his irate state of mind calmed. Turning, he tugged open the drawer that held his tape measure and placed his pen and notebook beside it. As he pushed it shut again, he addressed his brother once more.

"You need to stay off of your feet as much as possible today," he ordered at a much quieter volume. "Despite my explicit instructions that you were not to stand for long periods of time…" Folding his arms over his chest, Donnie lifted a dubious eye ridge and his voice took on a sarcastic tone. "…which I know you would  _never_  disregard…" Leonardo fidgeted nervously. "…your feet are very swollen this morning."

He waited a moment for a response from Leo, but none came.

"Keep your legs elevated when you're sitting," Don said sternly and headed for the door. "I'll be checking them again this afternoon."

Leo listened for the sound of a door closing before he dared to lift his head. He took a deep breath, hoping to alleviate his frustrations. It did no good. Rather than comfort, rage surged through his body. He looked around frantically for something to throw and spotted an empty water glass on the bedside table. Seizing it, he lobbed it across the room, extremely satisfied when he heard it crash against the far wall.


	10. Chapter 10

"There is something weighing on your mind, Raphael."

It wasn't a question. Splinter was studying his third son carefully as they knelt across from each other in the rat's room. The golden-eyed mutant looked up at his father for a moment then let his gaze fall back to the dainty teacup set on the table before him. His foremost thought at present was his wondering why Splinter had bothered pouring him tea when it was a well known fact that he hated the damn stuff. He supposed that the ninja master just did it out of polite habit. Reaching for the cup, Raph had to be careful not to crush the delicate china in his large hand.

"Not really," he lied and lifted the cup to his lips from an excuse to hide his face.

"Perhaps you would like to share it with me," Splinter suggested as if his son had answered in the affirmative. He likewise took a sip of tea while waiting for a response. When none came, he gently prodded again. "It may put your mind at ease."

Sighing, Raph put his cup down and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. His old self would have balked at his father's prying and he, more likely than not, would have insisted loudly that nothing was wrong before storming out of the room in a huff. Since his role in the Hamato clan had changed, Raph had gradually discovered through extensive hours of one-on-one time that his father was someone to open up to and vent the thoughts he usually kept bottled inside. Many a pleasant conversation had passed between the rat and the hothead in spite of the family's predicament – so pleasant that Raph had lamented his choice to not seek out his father more often during the frustrations of his teenage years. Now he hesitated only because he was afraid of the answer that might come.

"Ya think I'm getting everything I deserve?" Raph finally blurted. "With the way Mikey's been acting?"

The rat cocked his head, puzzled by the questions. "I'm not quite sure I understand what you mean, my son. Perhaps you could explain further?"

"I mean…" Raph paused, contemplating his choice of words. "…all the years that Leo was in charge…I gave him trouble at every turn. Hardly a day went by that I wasn't arguing with him, throwing a punch at him, or flat out disobeying him all 'cause I thought that he was too uptight and that I knew better than him. Now Mikey's doing the same stuff ta me and…and all I can think is…it serves me right for the way I treated Leo. Karma, right?"

Splinter tugged on his beard thoughtfully as he studied the new clan leader. "It is surprising that you mention karma. I was under the impression that you did not believe in such a concept."

"I didn't think I did," the hothead replied. "But I can't think of any other reason why all this sh-…" He caught himself before he finished the curse. "…stuff…happened except fer karma. It feels like all the bad stuff I ever did in my life finally caught up ta me. What don't make sense is that Leo was the one who got hurt 'stead of me. Leo's done nothing but good in his life. He don't deserve ta suffer."

"None of my children deserve to suffer," Splinter corrected with emphasis. "And while I do wish deeply that Leonardo had not been injured, I would never have you or your other brothers take his place." Noticing the doubtful eye with which Raph looked at him, he bowed his head and sighed. "I'm afraid I have ingrained you with a strong belief that I have favored Leonardo from amongst the four of you. For that, I sincerely apologize." He circled the rim of his teacup with a finger. "It is only now that I realize how unfair my attention to your brother must have seemed. My sole excuse is that I needed to invest ample time into molding and mentoring a worthy leader for this clan – a process I must repeat with you."

Raphael was silent, uncertain whether or not he should say anything. He swilled the contents of his cup and watched the tea slosh around. Several quiet minutes passed between them, each lost to their own thoughts.

"Might I offer a counterargument to you bad karma theory?" Splinter suddenly questioned, glancing across the table at his second youngest.

The large turtle shrugged. "Go for it."

"I believe that what you consider to be karma is simply you becoming aware of your past transgressions," Splinter stated. "You did not believe that you were wrong to act the way you did back then, but now you realize that such conduct was inappropriate because you have witnessed Michelangelo do the same things."

"I…guess that makes sense…" Raph replied slowly, scratching at an itch on his arm. "…but…"

"But?"

"…well…it's like I said...it still feels like payback."

"You are feeling guilty," the ninja master informed him and took a sip of tea. "It is a rather unpleasant emotion that has a tendency to afflict us when we are reminded of the things we have or have not done. Often it fills us with regret and makes us think that we are deserving of punishment."

"How do ya stop feeling guilty?" Raphael asked quietly.

"Make amends if needed," Splinter answered while refilling the cup his son had just emptied. "Learn from your behavior, accept that you were wrong, forgive yourself, and then move on."

The sai-wielder tried not to grimace at the prospect of forcing down more tea. "Easier said than done."

"It can be a difficult process if you make it so," his father responded. "But you have already started it. You have admitted to your mistakes and you have learned from them…"

"So ya saying I need ta make amends with Leo?" Raph interrupted with an assumption.

"Did you not make amends with your brother whenever the two of you were at odds in the past?" Splinter questioned in return, topping off his beverage. "Whether through my insistence or by your own accord?"

"…well…yeah…"

"Then what apology is needed?"

Raph stared into the depths of his tea, wracking his brain for an answer yet none came. He gnawed at his lip as silence settled in the cozy room once again. After a period of patient waiting, the rat continued.

"You are at the point where you must forgive yourself and move on. Do not dwell on what you could have done differently in the past. Focus on what you need to do in the present."

The red-masked ninja ran a hand over his face, trying to wipe away the exhaustion of a sleepless night. "I know I need ta deal with Mikey, but…every time I look at him all I wanna do is whack him upside the head…"

The tiniest of smiles graced Splinter's lips. "Certainly, there's a better alternative."

"Yeah, I just need ta figure out what that is."

"Tell me, Raphael. Why were you always so frustrated with your brother's authority?"

Caught off guard by the question, Raph blinked slowly a few times. "…I guess it was because we had a different way of looking at things and he always acted like his way was the right way no matter what."

"Would you say that the majority of your fights were started because you both had a different point of view?"

"Probably."

"And when you fought with Leonardo, what is it that you wish he would have done?"

"…I wish…that he would have just listened ta me…let me tell him my side of things instead of talking over me…dismissing me...or ordering me ta do whatever he said without question…"

"Given what we have just discussed, do you still feel that you cannot figure out how to approach Michelangelo?" Splinter questioned, quirking a furry eyebrow.

Understanding his father's subtle advice, Raph shook his head. "No, I think I got an idea 'bout how ta do it now."

The ninja master beamed. "Good." With his teacup lifted halfway to his mouth, he paused and lifted a cautionary finger. "Though I highly suggest you wait a while before you approach him. He is due here next hour to further explain his actions last night and will most likely be in a foul mood when I am through with him."

Raphael chuckled lightly at that, knowing all too well what a lecture from Splinter could do to a person's temperament. "Thanks for the warning, Sensei."

Splinter inclined his head in acknowledgement and set his cup down. "Now that we have addressed the issue with Michelangelo, let us discuss what you plan to do about The Foot Clan."

"What?" Raph asked, dumbstruck.

"The Foot Clan," Splinter repeated. "Surely, you do not mean to ignore them."

"…I thought that ya wanted me ta ignore them? I mean, ya told us not ta go messing with anybody when ya let us go out last night."

"Yes, I did," the rat acquiesced. "But having heard your account of what happened, I no longer feel like we should turn a blind eye to their activities."

"Well, hell, I don't have a shittin' clue," Raph said and then mentally berated himself for cursing. He had been trying to rectify that bad habit especially in front of his father.

Overlooking the slip-up, Splinter thought of a means to boost the rookie's confidence. "Raphael, do you know why I chose you as a replacement for the leader of this clan?"

"Desperation?" the hothead suggested half-jokingly.

"No, my son," Splinter denied. He tapped a finger to his temple. "I chose you because you can think. You know how to strategize. You know how to plan an attack and implement it successfully."

"Donnie and Mikey can do that, too," Raph muttered.

"Michelangelo lacks both the ambition and the focus to lead others," his father argued. "And Donatello is would not be content to limit himself to the role of leader when his intelligence allows him to fulfill that of doctor, scientist, engineer, and so forth." Splinter pointed at the student sitting across from him. "You have the ambition, you have the focus, and you are intelligent. Your only fault is your hair-trigger temper." Reaching out, he laid his hand over Raph's. "I have been watching you strive to bring your temper under control. If you can do that then you will be a great leader. I have faith that you will succeed."

Raphael's cheeks reddened at the praise. "…uh…t-thanks, Sensei…"

Smiling, Splinter patted his son's hand and withdrew his own. He knew that Raph had been stressed enough about taking his brothers topside for a simple training run. No doubt the announcement that he must also contend with The Foot Clan would further tax the tough turtle's sanity. Not wanting to overwhelm his son too much, Splinter decided to cut him some slack.

"Take some time to think about what should be done," he told Raph. "We can speak more about it later."

"Yes, Sensei," Raph sai, a small sense of relief washing over him.

"Perhaps Donatello has some theories as to what The Foot were attempting," Splinter mused, dropping a hint for his son. "He has kept excellent notes on their prior activities and is often attempting to gain information on their current or future operations."

"Yeah, I'll go pick his brain a little later."

"Another good source would be Leonardo."

Splinter made the statement cautiously, watching Raph carefully to catch his reaction. Raph's head snapped up in alarm. A second later, his features became deeply saddened. The expression made Splinter's heart feel heavy.

"You two are still not speaking?"

"Not fer a lack of trying on my part," Raph protested bitterly. "Every time I open my mouth, he always finds some excuse ta turn away from me." A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed hard to overcome it. "Damn, but I wish I knew how ta get him ta stop hating me."

"Leonardo does not hate you," Splinter insisted quietly. "He is frustrated and taking it out on you."

"He has every right ta be frustrated."

"Have patience for him, not pity," the old rodent advised and polished off his second cup of tea. "He will come around eventually."

"Yeah, I hope that happens sooner rather than later."

"As do I."

Raphael drummed the tabletop with his fingers. He could no longer subject himself to torturous act of sipping brewed plant teas. Pushing the cup aside, he looked at his father and tried to mentally convey his desire to leave.

"Is there anything else you wish to discuss with me at the moment, Raphael?" Splinter inquired, picking up on his son's cues.

"No, Sensei."

"Then you are free to go."

Raph's sang inwardly with joy. Not neglecting his manners, he bowed to his father.

"Thanks fer yer time, Sensei," he said and then added as an afterthought."And the tea."

"You are welcome."

Standing, Raphael ignored the numbness in his legs as he hurried across the room. Splinter kept his eyes on his son until the large turtle had disappeared behind a closing door. With a deep sigh, he got to his feet and began to tidy his room, making a mental note to add Leonardo to the list of students who needed a serious talking to.


	11. Chapter 11

Red In The Silver Lining

[RITSL]: Part 9

Raphael had taken only five steps away from his father's shoji when he froze in place. His eldest brother Leonardo, crutches propped underneath his arms, stood before him effectively blocking his path. The sai-wielder watched the katana-wielder warily, noting the way Leo's hands tightened on the cushioned handles of his crutches and the snap in his eyes as they narrowed into a glare. For a second, Raph felt the familiar surge of anger that came whenever he felt challenged by the other male and tried to quickly subdue it.

"Hey, Leo," he greeted as neutrally as possible.

"Raphael," the blue-masked ninja acknowledged.

The barb in Leo's tone was hard to miss. Raph flinched internally as it pierced him. In hindsight, he wished he would have simply walked away right then, but Raph was almost desperate for any kind of interaction with his aloof brother.

"Ya…ya been standing out here long?" the hothead asked, scrambling for something to say and immediately feeling stupid for his choice.

"Oh, not really," Leo responded and then made a great point of looking over Raph's shoulder at the entrance to their father's room. "Are you done wasting Master Splinter's time? I'd like to speak to him about my feelings instead of having you do that for me" He brought his gaze back to his sibling. "I mean, I'm sure your time would be better spent devising a plan to deal with The Foot. It'll probably take you a while to think of something that might be half-way decent idea."

Raph's stomach clenched unpleasantly as he realized that Leo had caught at least the tail end of his conversation with Splinter. What upset the younger turtle more though was the elder's reaction to what he had overheard. It was clear the Leo intended to start a fight with his hurtful words. Were they still teenagers, Raph undoubtedly would have taken the bait, but today he was not going to give the former leader the satisfaction.

"Yeah, yer right," Raph conceded. He took a wide step around his brother and calmly walked down the ramp that led into the main part of the lair. "I better get ta work on that. Splinter's all yers."

Leonardo turned, but said nothing more to his escaping sibling. His heated stare stayed on Raph until the red-masked ninja had crossed to the opposite side of their underground home where Don's lab was located. Raph tapped politely on the door and waited until he had been given permission before he entered. Slipping inside, he was happy about shutting Leo out.

The clicking of a keyboard disrupted the otherwise quiet of the laboratory. Donatello's eyes were glued to the computer screen, but he tore away to see who had come to visit. His emerald-colored brother was leaning against the door, hands pressed over his face to try and soothe the ache in his head. With a heavy sigh, Raph dropped his arms and pushed off the door to walk towards Donnie.

"Talking with Master Splinter again?" the genius asked while pulling out the chair beside his. Raph nodded in response and sank into the proffered seat. "How'd it go?"

"Alright I guess," Raph grunted, folding his arms over his chest. "Then I walked outta Splinter's room ta find Leo eavesdropping on us…"

"Seriously?" Don wondered. Shaking his head in disbelief, he reached for his mug of coffee on the desk. "I told him repeatedly to stay off of his feet today." He took a drink of his sweetened brew. "Well, if he wants to completely reverse all of the progress he's made in physical therapy then that's his fault. I have half a mind to just let him deal with that all by himself."

"Yeah, but ya won't," the new leader stated. "Yer too kind-hearted ta just give up on him. I know ya want ta see him get better."

Donnie studied his brother, concerned by the depressed attitude that Raph was expressing. "Did…did Leo say something to you?"

"Not really," Raph responded quietly, avoiding Don's gaze. He changed the subject abruptly. "What have ya been working on all morning? Stealing government secrets again?"

Don frowned, but took the hint that Raph didn't want to talk about his exchange with Leo. Sipping his coffee, he turned his attention back to his computer. He adjusted the monitor to show his brother the results of his investigation. Displayed on screen was a webpage, the main feature of which was a purple logo consisting of a complex carbon chemical structure surrounding the name Cartwright Chemicals.

"Not government secrets, Foot secrets," the scientist corrected. "Those barrels in the warehouse all had the same logo printed on them. I managed to snap a picture of one with my phone and ran an internet search. "He gestured towards the screen. "This is what I found. Cartwright Chemicals manufactures a range of organic reagents…methanol, acetonitrile, tetrahydrofuran…but their top-selling product is nitromethane."

"Nitromethane?" Raph repeated. The term was familiar to him and his brow scrunched as he tried to remember how he knew it. "…nitro?…engine fuel for drag cars?"

Don smiled, amused by his brother's knowledge about anything car related. "Yep."

"I doubt little Miss Foot suddenly took an interest in motorsports," the sai-wielder commented. He rubbed his chin pensively. "So what the heck would Karai want with nitro?" Raph looked from the computer screen to Don. "Assuming of course that's what was in those barrels."

"Nitromethane is also used for other stuff like manufacturing pharmaceuticals, pesticides, and explosives, but you're right. We can't assume that it was nitro that The Foot was loading up."

"Is there a way we could find out for sure?"

Thinking hard, Donnie drummed his fingers on the desk top. "Well… Cartwright is a federally regulated business so it's required by law to document every batch of chemicals it produces, sells, transports, and disposes. I could probably hack into their data management system and find out if there's any record about what was in that warehouse and how much."

"How long will that take ya?" Raph questioned.

"That would depend on how good their system security is," the olive turtle replied. He drained the rest of his coffee then swiveled back towards his computer and began pecking at the keyboard with his fingers. "If its high grade, it may take a while. I'll get started on it now."

"I know ya don't need my help for that," Raph chuckled and then pointed at Don's now empty cup. "I can get ya a refill though if ya want."

"Yeah, that'd be great," Donnie said, glancing at Raph out of the corner of his eye. "Thanks."

Raphael stood and stretched his arms above his head, mouth stretching wide in a big yawn. Snatching the mug off the desk, he made his way to the exit. It was uncommonly peaceful in lair as Raph walked through it which unsettled him slightly, but when he arrived in the kitchen he had to wonder if his feeling of perturbation had more to do with who was already occupying the room.

Leonardo.

The red-masked ninja swore under his breath. Of course he would have the misfortune of encountering his moody brother again this morning and so soon. Leo had his back to the door, fiddling with the knob on the stove as he prepared to heat his tea kettle. Raph momentarily hesitated in the doorway. Squaring his shoulders, he headed straight for the coffee machine, bound and determined to just ignore Leo entirely this time. Unfortunately for Raph, his brother did not have the same intent. Shuffling around on his crutches, Leo turned from the stove to Raph.

"Oh, have you finished already?" Leo asked, acting like he was surprised to see the other turtle a few feet away from him. "That was awfully fast."

Raph gripped the handle of the half-full pot tightly and poured some into Don's cup, keeping his focus on his task. "Ain't finished yet. Just grabbing some coffee."

Opening the cupboard above him, Raph extracted a fresh cup for himself. After filling it, he stepped over to the fridge and retrieved the liquid creamer. He poured a bit into his own cup and a larger amount into Don's. Next Raph reached for the sugar dish and shoveled a spoonful into his brother's cup to finish preparing Don's coffee exactly the way he knew the genius liked it. Finally, he fished a pair of clean spoons from the drawer and stirred both cups simultaneously until they were well blended. Leo watched the entire procedure silently, waiting until Raph was finished before speaking.

"Waiting on Donatello now?" the katana-wielder wondered smarmily. "How very nice of you."

"It's the least I could do for him," Raph responded as he deposited the dirty spoons in the sink on his way to returning the creamer to the fridge. Coming back to the counter, he picked up both cups and finally faced the eldest. "He's given me support while my other two brothers haven't."

A growl rose in Leo's throat, but his retort was cut off by the whistling of the tea kettle. Moving awkwardly, he retreated to the stove and turned it off before lifting the kettle from the hot burner. Leo whipped back around to confront Raph, but his brother was gone. Enraged, Leo made a great deal of noise slamming cupboards and drawers as he finished preparing his tea.

Back in the lab, Raph was seething. His hands shook with suppressed rage, threatening to spill the coffee he held. He had suffered more than enough as the target for Leo's anger and frustration and he was near his breaking point. Don was too engrossed in his work to notice his brother's return for which Raph was grateful. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, the hothead managed to make it to the desk without spilling a drop of liquid. He set Don's cup back in the same spot he had taken it from then sat down in his chair.

"Bless you," Donnie said sincerely as he groped blindly for his cup. Finding it, he lifted it to his lips and inhaled deeply before taking a drink. Donnie sighed happily as the rich flavor ran over his tongue and down his throat. "Perfect. I swear you make my coffee better than I do."

"Just one of my many talents," Raph joked, one corner of his mouth turning up into a smile at the praise. Tilting back in his chair, he stretched his long legs out in front of him and sipped his own drink. "Any luck so far?"

"I'm going to create a dummy IT account with full administrative access to their servers," Donnie explained as his fingers continued to type at lightning speed. "Then it'll just be a matter of finding the right information."

Raphael tried to follow the rapidly changing windows on the computer screen. Trying to understand their content made his mind swim and so he gave up. Placing his cup on the desk, he rested his head against the back of the chair and decided to close his eyes for a minute. Despite the caffeine flowing through his system, the sai-wielder started to drift off. He wasn't even aware that he had fallen asleep until he felt his braniac brother gently shaking him awake.

"…Raph…Raph!" Donatello said softly and then with more urgency. "I've got it!"

"Who's got wha'?" Raph mumbled, blinking slowly.

"I found what we were looking for!"

The news finally registered with Raph and he sat up fast. Rubbing a hand over his face, he wiped away the last traces of sleep. "What did ya find, Donnie-boy?"

"The docket for that warehouse in Brooklyn!" the genius revealed excitedly. "Included in the shipment was 3,150 gallons of nitromethane! It was stored there two days before The Foot went after it!"

"Well, I'll be goddamned," Raph whistled as he grabbed his cup which was still three-fourths full and took a drink. The coffee was barely lukewarm now. He made a face of disgust but finished it anyway with a huge gulp. "Nice work, bro."

"Which only leaves the question of what The Foot plans to do with all of it," Don mused.

Biting his thumbnail, Don scanned the remainder of the document. Nothing else of great significance jumped out at him. The remaining items were supplies for openly handling the chemical – gloves goggles, face shields, and respirators – which gave him no clues at all.

"Hey, does this Cartwright company have any other warehouses in the city?" Raph asked, a sudden idea coming to him.

"Let me check," Don replied. He typed in a command and clicked on the window that popped up. "Yep. One. And it's not that far from the first."

"Has it got anything in it now?" the hothead pressed.

More typing followed by a click.

"Nitromethane. Another 3,150 gallons." Don supplied. He looked over at his brother curiously. "What are you thinking, Raph?"

"That if Karai wanted that much nitro ta begin with, she'd be after more."

"I'd say that's a pretty strong probability."

"These warehouses got any kind of surveillance system or alarms on 'em?"

"The first one was wired for camera surveillance," the purple-masked ninja informed. "I checked the footage from the night it was broken into, but the cameras blanked right before The Foot arrived so nothing was recorded. They must have sabotaged the cameras somehow to keep their little visit under wraps. I imagine the scenario would occur if they attempted anything at this second warehouse."

Raph clucked his tongue in disappointment. He wanted to see if his theory proved true. A quiet minute passed as he weighed his options. Crossing his arms, he turned to meet his brother's gaze.

"Ya think Splinter would approve of a little stakeout?" Raph asked.

"I think he would if you convinced him it was worth it," Donnie answered honestly after some contemplation.

"Hmm," the sai-wielder hummed. "That'd mean…"

_Beep! Beep! Beep!_

The rest of Raph's sentence was interrupted by the alarm on Don's watch. Silencing it, Don double checked the time. Three-twenty-five p.m. exactly. His shoulders slumped and a small groan of annoyance escaped him.

"Time for Leo's physical therapy," Don told his younger brother.

"Better not be late for that," Raph grumbled. "Ol' Fearless is pissy enough as it is today."

Donnie slowly stood up from the computer and gave his achy muscles a good stretch. "I've noticed." Picking up his coffee cup, he prepared to make his leave. "While I'm working with him, are you going to talk to Splinter?"

"Yeah, I s'pose," Raph replied, standing as well. "Let's see if I can sell him the idea of the two of us doing a recon mission of that other warehouse..."


	12. Part 11

Red In The Silver Lining

[RITSL]: Part 11

Splinter's permission came conditionally. Just as Raph had expected.

First of all, Mikey would not be joining. The new leader had spoken to his father on the pretense that all three of the younger turtles would be partaking in the mission, but Splinter had quickly excluded the orange-masked ninja as he had been grounded indefinitely per his punishment. Quite honestly, Raph was relieved by the decision even though he was certain that the subtext was that Splinter didn't think he could effectively handle his little brother.

The second condition was that Raph and Don would observe only and not intervene with The Foot activities regardless of the illegality. Again, Raph had no objections. As much as he would love to battle his enemy, he knew he was at a serious disadvantage strength and number wise compared to Karai's forces.

Finally, Raph was to report to Splinter the moment he and Don returned home, no matter how late the hour. The requirement made Raph feel like he was fifteen years old again, but he had refrained from rolling his eyes and agreed to comply with his father's wish. He could already see how worry over Leo had worn down the old rat's frail body and Raph did not want to further burden him.

Upon receiving his sensei's blessing, Raph had thanked him and gone in search of Don to discuss their plan of action for the night. They had hashed it out and gathered all the necessary supplies by supper – a meal that had passed in another uncomfortable silence. A little more than an hour later, darkness had fallen above ground which signaled their departure. Carrying one duffel bag apiece, Raph and Don exited the lab and crossed the lair to head for the garage. Their burdened movement instantly caught the attention of Leo and Mikey who were seated in the living room watching television together.

"Where are you two going?" Leonardo wondered, causing the purple and red-masked ninja to pause.

Don traded looks with Raph before casting his gaze towards Leo. "Out."

With that, he and Raph turned to continue on their way. They made it two steps before Mikey brought them to another halt.

"Uh…hello? You guys are forgetting someone," the youngest turtle said sounding irritated. Standing from the couch, he approached his middle brothers. "Why wasn't I told about any plans to go out tonight?"

"Because you are not going out tonight, Michelangelo," Master Splinter announced as he suddenly emerged from the dojo. Moving forward, he intercepted Mikey by using his walking stick as a makeshift horizontal barrier. While his anger with his fourth son had abated, his disappointment had not and his stern tone conveyed that perfectly along with the deep frown on his face. "You will be training with me for the rest of the evening as we discussed this morning."

"Why do _they_ get to go out?" Mikey sulked, crossing his arms and sneering at his siblings.

"Raphael and Donatello have work to do," the rat replied vaguely while lowering his walking stick. "They have my leave to go."

"What work?" Leo asked, directing the question at his father as he shuffled over to the group on his crutches.

"That is between Raphael, Donatello, and myself for the time being."

"But…"

"Until your brothers have completed their mission, we will not discuss it," Splinter interrupted, holding up a hand to silence his eldest. He glanced briefly at Don. "Now it is to my understanding that you were told once again that you are to stay off of your feet as much as possible because you have been overexerting yourself. I highly suggest that you heed those instructions and go rest."

Leo shot a hard look at Don, angered by the revelation that his brother seemed to have made good on his threat to get Splinter more involved in monitoring his recovery process. The genius kept his expression neutral as he stared back at Leo. He was not going to let himself feel guilty for acting in Leo's best interests even if that made him a traitor in the older turtle's eyes.

The katana-wielder wanted to remain where he was – his surreptitious way of raising a middle finger to Don - but obedience was too deeply ingrained within him. Begrudgingly, he gripped his crutches tightly and turned from the group. Instead of returning to the couch, he went to his bedroom in moody silence.

Splinter watched his eldest struggle along for a moment before taking his youngest by the elbow and directing him towards the dojo. "Go ahead, Michelangelo. I will be there shortly." He then stood before his middle children, waiting patiently until he heard the slams of first the dojo and then Leo's bedroom doors. With a heavy sigh, Splinter bowed his head and bade the remaining ninja farewell. "Please be careful tonight, my sons. I wish to see you return home safely."

"We will, Sensei," Donnie replied, speaking for both himself and Raph.

"Good luck to you."

"Thanks."

The trio separated, Splinter heading to the dojo while Raph and Don carried forth to the elevator. Not a word passed between the two turtles as they stepped inside and ascended to the garage. They had decided earlier that their motorcycles were the best mode of transportation for their mission since the steel horses were much faster and easier to hide than the loud, bulky BattleShell. Moving in perfect sync, Raph and Don climbed on their respective bikes, adjusted their duffel bags on the seat behind them, and reached for their helmets.

"Ya ready for this, bro?" Raph asked, looking left at Don.

Donnie already had his helmet securely on his head. Instead of a verbal reply, he flashed the sai-wielder a thumbs-up then extended a finger towards a remote mounted on his handlebars and pushed the center button. The big overhead door rumbled and creaked open. Cramming his own helmet on, Raph fired his engine and rolled out into the yard. A quick glance in the mirror showed him that Don was following and the door was lowering back down into place. Checking that the traffic was clear, the brothers took a right out of the driveway and sped off.

There was something therapeutic about a motorcycle ride for Raph. Whether he was cruising for business or pleasure, the roar of the engine kept his mind and nerves at ease. He felt nothing but calm as he and Don maneuvered through the streets of Manhattan and crossed the East River on the Queensboro Bridge. Exiting at Jackson Avenue, they rode down to the Pulaski Bridge and transitioned to Brooklyn. Traffic was lighter than usual as they continued through the Greenpoint neighborhood, but neither Raph nor Don was complaining about the shortened trip. Slowing, they turned into the back alley of a pharmacy store that had closed for the day and parked their bikes behind the dumpster.

Dismounting, Raph pulled off his helmet and sucked in a deep breath of fresh air. He lingered just long enough to check the security of the bag strapped across his shell before he scaled the side of the building and hopped onto the roof. Don popped up beside him a second later and they took off, racing along until they reached an office building half a block away from the warehouse. The structure's ventilation unit provided sufficient shadow for the brothers to seek cover in. They crouched there for several minutes, their sharp eyes scouring the area around them for any threat to their safety.

"All clear?" Raph asked out the side of his mouth.

"All clear," Don confirmed.

The pair rose slowly, keeping their both their stealth and their senses on high as they cautiously crept forward to the end of the block. Peering over the ledge, the could see the corner warehouse across the street. Both the warehouse and the roadway surrounding it appeared to be completely deserted.

"Well, either they ain't here yet or I was wrong about this place being a target," the sai-wielder said quietly, looking up and down the street again.

"Or they're not coming here tonight which we also considered to be a possibility," Donnie reminded him. Opening the front pocket of his duffel bag, he fished out the headset for his phone and slipped it on. "But since they're not here now, how about I get to work setting up some surveillance inside?"

"Alright," Raph agreed, fitting his own earpiece onto his head. "Holler if ya need me. I'll be watching from up here."

"I'll be fast," the genius promised while heading for the west end of the building.

Don was on the ground in less than five seconds. Raph saw his older brother dart across the empty street into the next alley and lost sight of him after that. He was not thrilled about Don going in alone unprotected, but they really had no other options now that the old team had been further reduced to two. There were less eyes available to monitor the situation which presented quite a challenge.

Hence, Raph's idea to get their own cameras inside the warehouse – ones that The Foot would be unaware of and unable to turn off. It made up for the absence of his oldest and youngest brothers plus allowed them to observe safely from afar. Shifting on his knees, Raph continued to scan the street, a sense of foreboding building steadily in his gut.

"I'm back," Don announced not even four minutes later as he knelt back down beside his brother. Extracting his laptop from his duffel, he opened it and tapped out a few commands on the keyboard. "I've got the cameras in place…I just hope the signals come through…" He struck the return key and four video windows opened on screen. "Yes! We're in business!" Smiling, he turned the laptop slightly so that Raph could see, too. "One for each corner of the warehouse."

The view from all angles was more or less the same. Wooden pallets filled with 50 gallon blue barrels were stacked two deep in neat rows, divided by the few feet of floor space that was federally required for foot and forklift traffic to safely move around. A pair of forklifts were parked near the loading door on the north wall. Opposite of that, the camera captured a white door with the word "OFFICE" stamped across the frosted glass. Raph took in every detail, looking for any potential problems.

"Ya sure The Foot ain't gonna see our cameras?" Raph asked, tearing his gaze away from the computer to focus on his brother.

"They're tiny and I placed them in obscure locations that didn't hamper the capture frame," Don told him. "I'm positive that the only way The Foot would notice the cameras was if they were standing directly in front of one which is impossible unless they can hover several feet off of the ground."

The answer was satisfactory enough for Raph. Resting his arms on top of the ledge, he resumed his vigil of the neighborhood. "Then I guess all that's left is ta wait."

And wait they did. Two dull hours dragged by as the night air grew steadily cooler. Little conversation passed between the turtles. Both were fighting a battle with tiredness and stiff joints. Raph checked his watch for the umpteenth time and heaved a big sigh. He was toying with the idea of suggesting that they go home and let their do all the work. Of course, the second he opened his mouth he caught sight of a freight truck coming up the street. Elbowing Don gently, Raph indicted the approaching semi.

It was escorted by three black passenger vans – one in front and the other two behind. Raph and Don watched with baited breath as the vehicle train slowed near the warehouse. Turning the corner, the first van stopped before the chain-link and razor-wired fence that lined the warehouse's north lot. The van's side door opened and three people stepped out, all of them dressed in the distinct uniform of a Foot Soldier.

They lingered but for a second and then separated. Two of them scaled the fence, trotted over to the warehouse, and worked together to disable the cameras monitoring the site's outside perimeter. The third one stood before the wide sliding gate, crouching by its locking mechanism. After a few seconds, the ninja straightened and started to push the gate open.

Once it had ample space, the van rolled through to park in corner of the lot furthest from the street. The truck pulled in next and reversed to bring its tail end around so that it was facing the warehouse loading door. While the semi screeched to a halt, the rear pair of vans parked in row beside the lead car just as its driver's door swung open and out stepped a familiar foe.

"Look at that, Donnie," Raph whispered, staring down at Karai with a scowl on his face. She was not dressed in her Shredder guise, but rather in the garb she wore when she was only second in command. "The queen herself came down from her castle. Ta what do we owe the honor?"

"If I had to guess I'd say she's here to supervise the operation since we intervened with their last raid and cost them at least of quarter of that shipment," Don replied thoughtfully, checking his computer to make sure his cameras were still functioning. "You know the old saying: If you want something done right, do it yourself."

"Damn," the hothead muttered as he witnessed another person emerge from the first van – a man with glasses and fiery red hair. "She even brought that joker she calls a husband along with her."

"Dr. Chaplin?" Don asked in bewilderment. Setting his laptop down, he moved closer to the ledge so that he could peek over. Sure enough, Stockman's former protégé stood beside his mistress, conversing with her as a score of Foot Soldiers emptied from the vans. "That's interesting…" Dropping back, he twisted around towards Raph and pointed at the duffel near his brother's feet. "Will you hand me that bag, please?"

Raph obliged without tearing his eyes away from the happenings down on the ground. He could hear Don digging around in the bag, but that was all the attention he paid to his brother. Had he glanced over, he would have seen that the purple-masked ninja was assembling his parabolic microphone so that they could eavesdrop on their enemies.

"What are they doing now?" the bo-wielder inquired as he fiddled with the settings on his spy device.

"Two of 'em got the loading door open," Raph reported. "I'm thinking it's that first pair we saw. They must've broke in ta the warehouse ta shut off all the cameras and clear the path for everyone else." His eyes flipped back to Karai who appeared to be addressing her henchmen and gesturing at the storage building. "Now Little Miss Foot is sending the rest of the herd over….most of 'em are going inside and about…six of 'em are guarding the truck."

Don tugged off his phone's earpiece, replacing it with the headphones the connected to the microphone. "Well, let's see if we can listen in." He nudged Raph's arm with the corner of his laptop and handed it to him when he looked up. "Wanna watch the cameras for a while so I can wield this thing?"

"Yeah, alright," Raph agreed.

Carefully juggling the computer, he turned and sat down on his rear, stretching his stiff legs out in front of him and resting his carapace back against the wall. The top right video window showed Chaplin standing near the forklifts, addressing four soldiers while Karai stood in the open doorway, speaking presumably to the other soldiers who had been ordered to enter the warehouse. In the three remaining windows, the nefarious ninja could be seen moving along the outer wall and stopping to stand guard equidistance from each other. They looked like they were simply loitering, but Raph knew that they were poised to attack at a moment's notice.

"Ya catching wind of anything yet?" he asked Don, glancing left at his brother.

The genius was crouched as low as possible, trying to keep himself invisible, but also trying to keep his microphone aimed towards Karai. At first he only heard the crackle of static. Adjusting the device's gain control dial, he began to pick up voices.

"Almost got it…" Donnie replied slowly.

"… _extremely cautious loading the pallets onto the truck! We can't have them shifting around during transport!"_

Dr. Chaplin's voice had never lost its boyish quality. Issuing his warnings, he sounded more like an angry child about to throw a tantrum than an authority figure for New York City's biggest criminal organization. The more Don listened to the man, the more he wondered how anyone could possibly take him seriously. Instructions continued to bubble forth from Chaplin for another five minutes, ending just prior to the rumbling start of two engines.

"Chaplin just told a couple of them to start loading the truck," Don relayed to his brother.

"Yeah, I see they got the forklifts running," Raph responded, avidly watching the computer screen.

"What are the rest of them up to?"

"A whole lot of nothing. They're just standing along the walls like they're waiting for orders."

"Or waiting for us. Their job is probably to prevent any interference with the heist."

"Probably." Raph's sharp eyes tracked the red-headed scientist who had begun to move again. "Chaplin's walking over ta where his Karai's standing by the door."

"Okay, I'll aim for them," Don told him, adjusting the position of his listening device.

"… _acquisition of this shipment sufficient for achieving our goal, Dr. Chaplin?"_

" _Unfortunately, no, Mistress Karai. Less than half of the barrels from the other warehouse were collected last night thanks to those darn turtles. Plus, another five barrels were ruptured and spilled while the truck was being unloaded. But even if all that hadn't happened, we'd still only have about a third of what we need. We may have to consider looking outside of the state to get the rest of our resources."_

" _We will do whatever is necessary to ensure that our plan succeeds."_

" _Of course, Mistress."_

" _As a start, I want you to make sure that the idiots responsible for last night's disaster are disposed of permanently. Incompetency will no longer be tolerated."_

" _Already done, Mistress."_

" _Good. Then our next course of action will be to double the number of men scouring the city for the turtles. I want them all captured or dead by the time our Master returns to Earth and…"_

A loud gasp snapped Raph's concentration like a twig. Startled, he nearly threw the laptop away from him in his rush to reach for his sai. His body shifted into a crouching attack pose as he looked around frantically for whatever was threatening his and Don's safety. Seeing none, he glanced over at his brother and realized that he must have been reacting to something he'd overheard.

"What is it?" the red-masked ninja asked, moving closer to Don. "What are they saying?"

Donnie held up a hand as an indication that he needed silence. It was clear by his expression that he was focusing hard on information he was receiving from their enemies. A tense three minutes passed before Don lowered his hand, withdrew his microphone, and slid the headphones down until the hung around his neck. Mouth set in a grim line, he turned to face Raph. He had to swallow twice in order to speak.

"I think I've figured out why Karai needs nitromethane…"

Raph's eyebrows raised in surprise. "What's she got planned, Donnie?"

"…she needs it to fuel the new starship she's building to rescue Shredder from exile on Mor Gal Tal."


End file.
